Dark and Grimy Streets
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: In 1895, New York City Police Chief Robert Crawley is faced with a rash of violent murders. To stop the spread of the violence he transfers his old Army friend, now a detective in Five Points, to help him solve the murders. But times have been hard on John Bates and when faced with a killer slaking a savage thirst he might be out of his depth.
1. Prologue: With Silent Lips

When they went to write the account of the murders of the spring of 1895 many people thought history would be better to just forget they ever happened. Most, especially in their comfortable mansions near Madison Avenue or in their plush seats at the theater, shuddered at the mere mention of them and hushed others from relating the tale to the uninitiated. Their children told the story to replace the boogeyman in their games or to frighten the younger ones from playing with them.

In the end, history decided to forget.

Or perhaps, was made to.

The same people who hoped the world wouldn't remember the horrors that lined their soot darkened streets or dampened the polluted air thought New York City would be better remembered for the large statue that beckoned from the harbor.

Barely twelve years earlier Emma Lazarus wrote her declaration to the world and they inscribed it on a plaque at the base of that statue that stood both as guard and gatekeeper to the city of dreams. Those words read:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,  
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;  
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand  
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame  
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name  
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand  
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command  
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.  
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she  
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,  
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,  
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.  
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,  
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Many looked to these as their personal call, their comfort, and their mantra in those dark nights when many a person feared perhaps they would be next. The boogeyman would come for them.

But he didn't.

The rich slept fitfully in their beds worrying over their money or their mistresses. The poor coughed and groaned in their close quarters but stumbled through all the same. Those neither rich nor poor sought to rise to the former and not sink back to the latter.

And those who caught the man? Those who made sure the killer who rivaled the Ripper, and who put even Mary Ann Cotton to shame, lay buried six feet under in a paupers grave… what of them?

History lost them too.

And maybe they're better for it.

But history isn't.

Nor are those who could learn from the courage of those who stared into the darkest abyss of the night and did not fall. Those who felt terror grip its icy claws about their necks and fought anyway. Those who, in the depths of deepest sorrow and agony, never failed.

History would learn from those brave souls.

More importantly, could learn from those who never saw themselves as brave. Because no man who thinks himself brave can truly claim to be. Those who are brave think they do no more than what another would do.

They're wrong.

They did more. So much more.

In the spring of 1895 they saved a city.

More importantly, they saved themselves.


	2. Give Me Your Tired

The man in a smart, black suit exited the cab and took a moment to look up at the building before entering. He held the door for a blonde woman hurrying into the office while juggling a number of files and trying to read a letter simultaneously. A man followed after her, holding just as many files.

"I don't see why you don't have me carry those Edith." He tried to pull one from her grip but she maneuvered away.

"I can carry them myself Bertie."

Unfortunately for the two of them a blonde officer in uniform collided with them and papers flew everywhere. The man bent down, gathering the papers, snatching a few from the air before they could fly out the open door as a gust of chill wind blew inside. He managed to save a few from the feet of police mindlessly walking by and shuffled them together as the younger officer ducked his head under the tongue lashing from the woman named Edith.

"Watch where you're going. Do you have idea what you could've done?"

"Sorry ma'am, it won't happen again." He handed over the few papers in his grip before dashing off, face bright red.

The man handed the papers in his grip over to the flustered man next to him, sorting the papers into the correct folders with more than a few huffs and sighs.

"I had these all in order. It'll take another hour to just make sure it's all in the right place," He muttered to himself and the first man had to tap his shoulder to get his attention. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I get so caught up in what I'm doing that I talk to myself."

"We all should a bit more often. I think we'd be surprised who we became over night while we weren't paying attention." The man smiled, "If it's not too much trouble, could you direct me to Chief Crawley's office?"

"You're here to see Chief Crawley?" Bertie swallowed, "I mean, you're here to see him willingly? Most have to be dragged to his doorstep."

"Well I'm sans handcuffs today and I have an invitation of sorts," The man held up a telegram, "He rather insisted I make an appearance and I try not to let people in powerful positions down."

"That I completely understand," Bertie spun almost all the way around to point to a set of stairs. "Take those up and you'll be there."

The man raised his gaze to see a row of windows overlooking the craziness of the main floor. "Looking out over his kingdom?"

"Keeps everyone focused when they know someone's watching." Bertie moved to Edith's side as she fussed over the files in her arms. "Edith, darling, this man's here to see your father. Could you take him up there?"

Edith glanced up, frowning a moment before looking the man up and down. "You're better dressed than most who have to come here."

"My mother taught me the importance of a good impression Ms. Crawley."

"I'm not Ms. Crawley, not anymore. I'm Mrs. Pelham but I work as my father's secretary so I can understand the confusion. But yes, it'd be my pleasure to take you up to see him." She glanced between her files and Bertie before handing them over. She raised a finger at him, "Don't you dare say 'I told you so'."

"Wouldn't dream of it dear." Bertie smiled and managed the stack of files, only swaying slightly as he vanished around a corner.

The man watched him go, smiling to himself before he heard Edith's voice. "Well? Are you coming?"

"Sorry Mrs. Pelham." He caught up to her, "If it's not too invasive to ask, where's he taking all those files?"

"Records. Bertie manages all the records for the department and is currently developing a cataloguing system between our precinct and others in the vicinity to match case files with similar qualities."

"Tracking crime across a broader field, as it were?"

"That's the idea. The bone men down in the morgue all find it a horrible drag. Except Moseley, he's all but ecstatic about the prospect of staring at files instead of corpses all day." Edith paused, "I hope you have a strong stomach Mr.-"

"Bates and I do. I work in Five Points."

"As what?"

"A detective." Bates followed Edith up the stairs and she knocked on the door.

"Then I guess you're right where you belong." She opened the door, "Have a nice day Detective Bates."

"And you Mrs. Pelham." Bates walked into the office to hear a man about his height, with much grayer hair, yelling into the speaker of the phone of his desk.

"I don't care how long it takes you to find it. I need that file or the judge closes the case and we've got a known felon walking the streets." He practically threw the earpiece into its holder. He gathered his breath before thrusting both hands at the phone, "They think crimes just solve themselves after we put people in handcuffs."

"The details escape the public." Bates walked across the room, "But there's a lot to be said about having the cuffs."

"Isn't there just though?" Chief Crawley held out his hand and Bates shook it. "Good to see you John."

"And you sir."

"Been a long time since we decided to join the Army and fight in the west hasn't it?" Chief Crawley sat in his chair and John took one for himself.

"I feel exactly how long it is when my bones ache in the morning." John folded his hands on his lap, "I assume you didn't call me here just to discuss old times."

"No," Chief Crawley pulled a folder from his desk and slid it over the desk. "I can't say the papers here are any more graphic than yours in Five Points when they talk about what you see there but I hope it's enough to give you a stronger stomach, at leas one strong enough to handle this better than most of my officers."

"I can't see purse snatchers making more trouble than a fainting lady." Bates opened the folder and flipped through the sketches and blurry photographs. "This happened in your jurisdiction?"

"Yes." Chief Crawley shook his head, "It's not something I'm proud to admit but we've not got the experience to handle something this gruesome."

"Have you got any leads?"

"None at all." Chief Crawley leaned forward on his desk, "If you say yes to my proposal I'll have the paperwork through Roosevelt by this evening."

"Proposal?"

"I need you to come and work here, John. I need someone with a strong stomach, a fighting spirit, and a sharp mind. I've got green boys and retiring men here who've seen nothing rougher than a domestic dispute or a bloodied lip after your aforementioned purse snatchings."

John Bates closed the folder and set it on the desk, "On two conditions."

"Name them."

"First, you keep the press off it. I know here they'll just be clawing over one another to get the details on a vicious murder in the heart of good society. I don't need them in the way."

"Done. Though I've got a man who runs the Times, Michael Gregson, in a deal where he only sends one reporter to us. It's a good deal but I can't stand the reporter he chose."

"Why?"

"He married my youngest." Chief Crawley shuddered, "My kind hearted, world-changing daughter, married a socialist journalist before going to work in tenement slums as a nurse."

"The world needs more hearts like Sybil's, Robert." John smiled, "And I can handle one reporter. What's his name?"

"Tom Branson. Irishman with world views that set my teeth on edge."

"I've heard of him." John closed his eyes a moment, putting his palm to his forehead, "He wrote that expose about the election rigging in the slums."

"Yes." Robert ground his teeth, "He wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks."

"The rule still stands. Outside Branson I don't want anyone involved in this case and if there's even a sniff of details out there you sack whatever officer decided to risk an exclusive."

"No punches pulled then?"

"Not with something like this," John jabbed at the folder with his finger, "You've got two dead women here Robert. That's not something I want a reporter looking for his big break running with and causing a panic. Or worse, copycats."

"That happen often in Five Points?"

"It's violent there and we get our fair share of murders but never anything like this. That's what worries me." John stroked a finger down the folder cover, thinking about the contents, "People'll believe the boogeyman's out to get them."

"Last thing we need are people in the streets screaming for answers." Robert nodded, "Anything else?"

"I take lead on this." Robert went to argue but John raised his hand, "You're calling me in for this and I don't want to come just to serve under a well-intentioned but ignorant officer. I don't care how many years he's got or the buttons on his lapel. I take point or I don't come back."

"Done. Carson won't object since he's almost to retirement anyway."

"Carson?"

"Our Detective Chief Inspector. I'll put him on as advisory, just to calm the boy who'll not take to kindly to me recruiting a Five Points detective to work this."

"You think they'll have a problem?"

"They're boys, John. They always have a problem if they think their territory's under threat."

"Then we'd better prepare for that." John stood, "And I should find a desk."

"No other requests?" Robert stood too, "Just those two?"

"Let me choose who works with me. I don't need everyone and I'd prefer to keep the group small. Loose lips sink ships and all that."

"That they do." Robert shook his hand again, "It'll be a pleasure serving with you again John. It's been far too long."

"I just wish it was under better circumstances."

"Don't we all?"

* * *

John climbed out of the cab and noticed a younger man jogging to catch up to him. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Tom Branson," He shook John's hand vigorously, "Pleasure to finally meet you Detective Bates."

"You know me?"

"Not personally but I've got some cousins in Five Points who told me about your work there. They hinted you'd been transferred uptown and now I know why."

"Why, Mr. Branson?"

"Murder, sir." John stopped to look at Branson, "You don't call a copper from Five Points to where the rich and famous prowl for anything less than a real threat."

"Are you looking for a statement Mr. Branson, or a verification of your theories?"

"Neither. I'm looking for you."

"Well I'm not going to give you anything. I have a problem with reporters."

"Because of what they said about your wife?"

John stopped breathing a moment, "What?"

"Your work as a detective isn't all my cousins had to say about you. I've done my homework and I know all about what happened with-"

John stepped toward Branson, crowding him toward the wall, "Listen very carefully, Mr. Branson. I respect that you married Chief Crawley's daughter and that you're good at your job. I respect that your boss, under whatever pretense, made a deal with Chief Crawley to only have you following the crime stories here. In the end, I've no problem with you as a person. But if I see anything published about my work in Five Points, this case, or anything relating to my wife I'll make sure you never write again."

"I don't think you've got that kind of pull."

"I didn't mean I'd take away your job, Mr. Branson." John worked his mouth into a smile that menaced Branson enough to give him a shudder, "I meant I'll break your hand in so many places it'll never heal right so you'll physically be unable to write again."

Branson's eyes widened and then he smiled, "You really are a Five Pointer aren't you?"

"Born and bred." John stepped back, "Now get your information about this from anyone but the coppers. If they talk to you they'll be out on their ear."

"You always play so close to the vest?"

"There are grieving families who've lost a child or a wife or a sister or a mother tonight, Mr. Branson. I don't need their story splashed all over the front page to distress them more." John pointed to the road, "Move along and wait for your official statement from Chief Crawley like everyone else."

"If I waited with everyone else I'd never go to print. You're delaying the people's right to know."

"My heart bleeds for them Mr. Branson but they'll survive. Alfred," John waited for the ginger-headed giant to join him, "Please escort Mr. Branson to a safe distance where I won't break his nose."

"Yes sir."

"Not even a comment?"

John stopped, "A woman was found dead this evening in an alley. We mourn with her grieving family and ask for the public's respect at this time."

He left Alfred, still pushing the persistent Irishman, back away from the entrance to the alley. John walked over to where a tall man with imposing eyebrows and a bass voice discussed something in low tones with a shorter blonde woman. She pointed insistently at the body but the older man continued to shake his head.

John walked over to them, smiling at the woman before turning to the man. "What seems to be the problem Inspector?"

"Doctor Smith here insists she needs to see the body."

"Why not?"

The inspector huffed, "It's undignified for the deceased and not something a woman should see."

"Inspector Carson it's a woman lying dead in the street but you've got your own officers looking at her body." Doctor Smith insisted, "And Doctor Moseley's a man going to look at this woman's body."

"He's a professional, Doctor."

"And I'm not?"

"I didn't mean-"

"Inspector," John cut in, "If you could allow the good Doctor her analysis then I can have you handle the curious audience threatening the sanctity of this woman's death."

"Detective Bates-"

"They know and trust you, Inspector," John pointed back toward the street, "I think it's the best use of our limited resources."

"What about William or James?"

"They're already running interference with Alfred but the crowd's just getting restless with those young men doing their best with their baby faces." John drew Carson away from Doctor Smith, "What's the harm in allowing the good doctor a look over my shoulder while I investigate?"

Carson straightened, "If that's your decision Detective Inspector then I respect it but I don't agree."

"Thank you for your honesty Inspector Carson." John waited for Carson to gather William, James, and Alfred to the alleyway entrance as crowd control and turned back to the woman. "I hope you haven't been arguing long."

"No," She smiled and extended her hand, "Doctor Anna Smith, alienist."

"John Bates, detective." He shook and released her hand, flexing his own at the tingling sensation that accompanied a rising in his chest as she smiled at him. "What's an alienist doing at a crime scene?"

"I've work closely with Chief Crawley for criminal research."

"Really? How'd you meet?"

"I treated one of his dear friends when they experienced a bout of hysteria last year that almost burned down their home." Doctor Smith walked closer to the sheet, "May I?"

"By all means," John joined her as she crouched by the body and lifted the sheet back. He blew out a breath, "Reminds me of pictures of the Ripper killings."

"I think that's the point, if you want my professional opinion," She slipped her notebook under her arm as she moved the sheet completely off the body, "Distress and distract with the showmanship of slashing the woman's throat."

"Distract?"

"I admit I'm not a doctor in that sense but even I can tell the slash was post mortem. This woman was dead before her throat was cut." Doctor Smith shuffled, still in a crouched position, to move down the body, "She was left in the street as a display. I doubt she was murdered here."

"You're very studied in this Doctor."

"I'm training, Detective." Doctor Smith smiled over at him before lifting a bit of the woman's blouse with her pen to peek underneath.

"Studying what?"

"Forensic pathology."

"You study criminals?"

"No," Doctor Smith stood, adjusting her notebook in her hands, "That's criminal pathology and I'm somewhat of an expert in that field already, new as it is."

"Then what-"

"Forensic pathology is the study of the cause of death. To me it helps to see the crime scene itself to take in the context of the killing."

"An example being?"

"In poverty stricken regions people being knifed in the streets are deemed crimes of opportunity. Here they're crimes of passion or premeditation. Location can have an effect on what a medical examination of the body will reveal about the death itself. More than that," Doctor Smith walked around the body, "It says more about the killers and criminals than talking to them ever will."

"Depends on how you talk to them."

Doctor Smith made a face, "In my experience talking never gives you what you really want. It gives you what they think you want. I don't find it helps get to the root cause."

"I thought all alienists thought that talking to the mad men and the hysterics until they stopped foaming at the mouth was the key to success."

"A common misconception."

"Then who do you treat Ms. Smith?"

"It's 'Doctor', if we're being formal Detective Bates, and I help any and all who are struggling through the mental minefield life throws at us all… with differing degrees of severity and with all men experiencing a different degree of success in management."

"We're all suffering diagnosable mental afflictions?"

"That's my professional opinion, yes." Doctor Smith took another study of the woman, "The people I treat are just that, people. They're not monsters or animals or possessed by demons. They're in pain. What's worse is that we treat them as aliens in their own society, shunning them to the side instead of helping them as Christ commanded all to do."

"Not everyone is a Christian, Doctor."

"No, but we live in a Christian society. The very fabric of which is woven with those principles that should have us rushing to help our tormented brothers instead of locking them away to rot in the dark." She stood straighter, "They deserve our care and attention, Detective, not our revulsion or our scorn."

John shrugged, "That's not what a colleague of yours wrote."

Doctor Smith stopped, her face pulling tight toward her pursed lips, "If you're referring, in any way, to Doctor Green's paper on 'Caging the Man to Cage the Animal' then I suggest you drop any related thoughts in the refuse pile where they belong because I don't agree and I'll argue with you about it until dawn."

"Not a fan of his theories I see."

"That man's no more than a hack who made his way through Harvard on the reputation of his father's money. He possesses no skill and even less intuition about his fellow man." Doctor Smith shuddered, "He's a disgrace to our profession."

"Bit of a rival for you then?"

"A wolf no more considers the deer his rival than the lion acknowledges the opinions of sheep, Detective." Doctor Smith pointed to the body, "Would it be possible to request a copy of the photographs of the scene?"

"Actually," John stepped around the body, "I'd like to look over them with you, if you don't mind."

"Why?"

"I feel it's better for my theories if I work them out in person. Reading notes isn't helpful for this." John looked up and waved the photographer over, "And Mr. Talbot here'll tell you how hard it is to get the images in the first place."

"Evening Doctor," Talbot leaned over and shook Doctor Smith's hand, "And bloody difficult, is the term. Excuse my language."

"Not a problem Mr. Talbot." Doctor Smith surveyed the scene one last time. "Then I'll be by your office tomorrow at ten to give you my diagnoses?"

"That'll be fine. I'll have some of my own theories by then and we can share them." John shook her hand, "Pleasure to meet you Doctor."

"And you, Detective." She walked back out of the alley.

John watched her go, sighing to himself as she left.

"Something wrong Detective?" Talbot set up his camera, checking the plates.

"Just tired, Mr. Talbot. Just tired."


	3. Your Poor

John paced in front of the blackboard, counting his steps carefully as he did to keep his mind from wandering.

"Compulsive behaviors are usually a sign of mental distress." He looked up to see Doctor Smith at the door. She removed her hat, shaking her head as she did, "But I won't presume to judge you in your domain."

"Perhaps next time we discuss the case we can go to your domain." John tapped on the blackboard, "I've got a few theories, if you care to hear them."

"Don't mind if I do." She stepped toward it, face immediately blanking as she read the notes there. "You're confident it's a serial and not similar murders by a group or perhaps a copycat?"

"I ruled out the idea of a copycat because the details of the murders haven't been released to the press." John leaned on the desk, "It's hard to copy something you don't know happened."

"True, "Doctor Smith conceded, "And what about group dynamics?"

"Not enough abuse for it to be multiple perpetrators. In a group the victim is usually beaten to death, not with a slash to the throat."

"What about a duo? It could be training?"

"I ruled out the possibility of a master-apprentice relationship." John tapped his finger on the first photograph, "The throat slitting again."

"What about it?"

"The pull of the blade." John raised a pen and brought it to his throat, "If the perpetrator were taller than the blade would pull up on completion, shorter it pulls down. Since all the cuts are pulling up I postulate we're looking for someone taller than their victims and the pulls are all up in direction."

"What if both master and apprentice are taller than the victims?" She folded her arms over her chest as John replaced the pen, "Women are, on average, shorter than men and these women run smaller than average already."

"Killing in a back alley's a close business. Risk of exposure's great if even one person happens to walk by." John shook his head, "This was an individual."

"The women were strangled and then cut," Doctor Smith held out her hands, "What if the throat was slit from the ground?"

"There's no bruising on the chest."

"Your point?"

"The knife edge, to make those jagged cuts, is not sharp. With the kind of force required and given the body wouldn't be in fully set rigor yet, it'd take significant strength to pull across a body laying on the ground and cut the throat without leaving a far more jagged line." John tapped the photo, "He strangled the woman and used her own weight to bear down on the knife as he cut. This was personal."

"Personal is only half of it, Detective," She pointed to the hazy images, "This is the work of passion."

"You mentioned last night when you said the throat was slit post-mortem."

"Yes. In none of the three murders were the women cut before they died."

"You examined all three of the bodies?"

"Yes and, in agreement with the mortician, I can say whoever did this strangled these women to death."

"In my experience that's usually reserved for unruly wives and children or when a tense conversation got particularly heated. Not as a payment on services rendered."

"Exactly my point." Doctor Smith took up position in front of a picture. "What did this whore do to entice his ire?"

"Excuse me?"

Doctor Smith turned, pointing at the photograph, "You do know she's a whore yes?"

"The term, I believe, is prostitute."

"Aren't they the same thing?"

John shook his head, "This woman, though her occupations and her state in life would lead all to believe she is very low indeed, is more than her work. She worked as a prostitute, for reasons that are beyond me, but it wasn't all she was."

Doctor Smith smiled, "I'd never assume for a moment it was and I'm glad you don't either."

"Were you testing me, Doctor?"

"I find I need to know the footing of the police I work with." Doctor Smith scoffed, "So many of them believe that answers come from brass covered knuckles and billy clubs to the head."

"I'm not of that mind."

Doctor Smith eyed him and John felt a bloom of heat at his collar. "I doubt you share very many minds with those on the force."

John coughed, working to change the subject, "What about your question?"

"Which one?"

"The one about what the prostitute did to incite this man to strangle her in an alleyway."

"Do you have an answer?"

"No, but your question is still valid, and I think we need to really consider what did she do to rile up her attacker?"

"This would cast the assumption that she was in some way 'asking for it'." Doctor Smith inhaled through her nose in a way that had John feeling that her hackles rose with the comment.

"This is assuming that a person of less than sound mind, for some unfathomable reason we're trying to untangle, used an action of this woman as an excuse for their break in reality."

"Is that what you really think or what you'll day to avoid my bad opinion?"

"Having worked with many prostitutes in the course of my duty I can honestly say that they're no more at fault than the child beaten in the factory for not running fast enough through the machines who then gets a cuff to the ear, Doctor."

"So long as we're clear on who bears the blame."

"I ascribe blame to the person who kills another, Doctor."

They both stood in silent thought a moment before Doctor Smith raised a hand, "Can we assume she saw it coming?"

John shook his head, "Given my experience with prostitutes, living and dead, they take a risk every time they open their hands for the money that opens their legs." He cringed, "Excuse my crudity, I'm not usually discussing these issues in the company of a lady."

"Not to worry," Doctor Smith sat on the edge of a desk, "I'm not a lady and I don't pretend to be. I only dress like one."

"Well, your attire aside Doctor, I believe you to be a lady and I don't know if I've yet met a finer one."

"Thank you Detective," She ducked her head and John caught a flush of red on her cheek bones, "That's very kind of you to say."

"Costs me nothing to compliment you." John clicked his teeth, "And no, I don't think she saw the danger. Even if she did, what he promised her as compensation was enough for her to risk whatever instinct would tell her to run. Or it was just too late to do anything at all."

"Do you believe they'd know better?"

"In most cases these are not women with very many options. If they're working for a house then they've got a tally they need to provide for the food they eat, the bed they actually sleep in, and whatever rags they call clothing." John circled a few neighborhoods on the map hanging by the blackboard, "If they work for themselves then they're providing for a family and there's another set of needs and wants to consider. Nothing convinces a mother to leave her house like a crying baby or children with grumbling stomachs."

"Then they risk this killer because of an offer they literally cannot refuse?"

"Yes." John took a deep breath, releasing slowly, "They're in danger every moment. I just don't know why anyone would want to kill one unless she refused a request but then most just slap them around or pay them less. I've never seen a prostitute murdered over a disagreement about what they will or won't do for the client."

Doctor Smith lighted off the desk and paced a moment, "What if it's about him more than her?"

"I don't follow."

"The Ripper investigation focused on the idea the Ripper was cleansing the streets of Whitehall by removing whores from the earth yes?"

"It was the Yard's feeling if I read the papers right." John folded his arms, "Are you saying this killer's doing the same?"

"No, and thank you."

"For what?"

Doctor Smith shrugged, "In the course of our discussion about this case you haven't one yet assumed the killer is a man or that any of this is strictly the work of a male perpetrator."

"I haven't but all the evidence thus far suggests it was."

"The rape and the throat slitting, yes. But a crime of passion like this could be this woman's employer taking revenge or any number of women seeking to vent their frustrations at their husbands' wanderings by killing the object of the betrayal."

"Do you believe it's a woman?"

"No, but my opinion should only go so far as the facts do. Since our facts don't yet eliminate the slim possibly there's a woman orchestrating these murders I'm keeping an open mind." Doctor Smith tapped the picture, "If it is a man, why do men seek out prostitutes?"

John raised an eyebrow, "If you're asking that then I think someone neglected a necessary component of your education.

"I mean," Doctor Smith shot him a glowering look, "The motivations behind the decision to have sex with a stranger and risk horrible, disfiguring diseases?"

"Release, for most. Some just need a bed they don't own and a woman they have for a time instead of dealing with the children she'll bear or her shrill voice when he drinks away his savings instead of helping the family. Most just look for companionship since they feel alone in a world and a city that doesn't give two shits if they live or die." John winced, "Apologies, again, for my language."

"Detective, I've worked with the police enough to be familiar with the vernacular of both the police and the people you prosecute. Don't excuse yourself on my account."

"Why not?"

"It means you're being honest and direct in all your thoughts, holding nothing back." She rolled her shoulders back, "I prefer that to an act I have to decipher while also deciphering this case. I don't intend to be exhausted on two fronts."

"Then I'll continue as my genuine self." He waited a moment as Doctor Smith seemed lost in thought, staring at a corner. "Doctor?"

"What about for fantasy?"

"What fantasy?"

She turned to him, "When men seek out prostitutes, are any of them looking to fulfill a fantasy?"

"Like role play?" John took a breath, blowing out slowly as he thought over it, "There are houses that specialize in fitting a particular proclivity. I know a few that design their rooms or dress up their workers to fit a certain percetion or desire but full fantasies I couldn't tell you. Why do you ask?"

"What if this woman represents someone the perpetrator wishes they could harm in reality?" Doctor Smith tapped the board, "This individual could be using these woman as representatives of a deep-seated desire they've decided to finally act on in the smallest of ways."

"If they wanted a fantasy then why murder them? Wouldn't it be enough just to shag someone who looked enough like the person they wanted and be done with it?"

"For most people that's enough because they can live out a desire with reduced guilt." Doctor Smith pointed to the three pictures, "Unfortunate as it is, most who visit and use prostitutes don't see them as people and so there is no guilt that someone's been used they way they'd feel guilty if they sated themselves on someone they actually see as an equal."

"Then they find a particular prostitute to exercise their fantasy and, in doing so, hope to exorcise their fantasy?"

"That's a succinct observation, Detective." Doctor Smith chewed the inside of her cheek, "This is about more than just reaching the end of a fantasy."

"Then what is it?"

"If it were rape then I'd think the person wanted to complete a fantasy about total dominance of the object of their desire but this…" Doctor Smith shook her head, "This is about more than desire or dominance. This is about control in its deepest and most insidious forms."

"A desire to control and destroy the object of their obsession?"

"First the ultimate form of control for a man over a woman is the act of sexual violation. You control her body. Then," Doctor Smith ticked off on her fingers as she started walking the same path John used when she first entered the office, "The act of strangulation. You control her life as you hold the power over life and death for her. You hold their future literally in your hands and that's heady tonic for someone like this."

"What about slitting the throat after? If the power over life and death is already exercised then what else is there?"

"The throat slitting, as the third act, demonstrates a need to hide the necessity of the crime from even the killer themselves. Control over how they perceive themselves and control over the guilt by justifying the action to appease their conscience."

"They don't want to admit they have these desires?" John walked to the board and flicked the map there, "Then why leave the body in such an obvious place? Display for the object of the obsession? Reminder of their own self-loathing?"

"I admit, that part I don't have a theory for as yet." Doctor Smith studied the board, "But since this killer sees these prostitutes as cogs in a machine, toys for their use, then they're discarding those used objects like refuse."

"Hence the abuse."

"Whatever the obsession, the killer's not ready to actually confront the object of their true feelings." Doctor Smith shrugged, "They might, in some way, justify their actions at the end by thinking they've thinned the herd and thereby helped cleanse the world of a form of evil. They might attempt to convince themselves they're doing good through these actions."

"Then the display is more like a cat dragging a mouse in the door," John shook his head, "It's a cry for acknowledgement. They want to be seen for their work even if society on the whole won't see it as a benefit."

"Whatever demons plague this man or woman, they run deep." Doctor Smith turned to John, "I think you may've missed your calling Detective."

"How so, Doctor?"

"You have a remarkably open mind for what you do and your analysis follows logical thought." She sucked the inside of her cheek while smirking at him, "You would make a good alienist."

"I've no desire to study criminals. I only do what's necessary to catch them and make sure they never harm another soul again." John looked up and watched Chief Crawley pass the window, speaking fast to Edith as she trailed right behind taking notes. "Though I'm curious where you got your desire to study criminals and work with Chief Crawley. How'd you meet him anyway?"

"I attended Oxford with his daughter."

"Edith?"

"No his oldest, Mary." Doctor Smith bent at the waist to squint at one of the images from the first killing. "She and I lived in the same women's dormitories."

"She's an alienist as well?"

"No," Doctor Smith stood, shaking her head, "She's a financier. She and her husband, Matthew, work on Wall Street. Chief Crawley doesn't talk about it but Matthew single-handedly saved the family fortune and Mary grew it."

"Impressive." John folded his arms over his chest, "But why'd you become an alienist? It's not the traditional avenue of pursuit for a woman. Especially not a woman from a little town in Yorkshire."

"Been reading up on me Detective?" She smiled at him and took a chair, crossing her legs.

"I like to be informed as to the nature of those with whom I work." He leaned on the edge of his desk, "So how does a girl from Yorkshire come all the way to New York to practice alienism and treat the criminals of the city?"

"Necessity, Detective."

"The city's or yours?"

"Both." Doctor Smith cocked her head sideways, "What brings an Irish boy with his mother to Five Points, convinces him to join the Army, fight the Indians in the west, and then come back to defend his very same adopted neighborhood?"

John grinned at her, "Necessity, Doctor."

"Hm." She stood, "You've given me a lot to think about Detective."

"What'll you do with the information?"

"I'm feeling a little starved so I might treat you to a professional lunch meeting." Doctor Smith grabbed her hat from the desk, "Care to join me?"

John pulled his coat from the back of his chair and they caught a cab to an address Doctor Smith gave the driver. As she settled back, John sitting with his back to the driver, Doctor Smith put a finger to her lips, "Your mother left Ireland after your father died, didn't she?"

"Are you analyzing me Doctor?"

"Yes." She nodded, "It's a habit I developed in my work."

"Do you always ask your acquaintances these personal questions?"

"In other circumstances I'd keep these thoughts to myself, practical and professional since there's a certain unease when a stranger knows a lot about you, but since we're in a position of trust that must be cultivated and pruned I find it prudent that we cut immediately to the chase."

"Constant honesty then?"

"Consistent honesty, Detective." Doctor Smith leaned forward, "This case is unlike any I've ever consulted on for the precinct and I've a feeling it'll test us if we're not careful."

"Test us how?"

"How much do you trust those who work with you?"

John raised his eyebrows as he pulled his jaw down, "I only know them by the reputation that Chief Crawley gave."

"Well, if it helps, I can vouch personally for Inspector Carson."

"Even after he wanted to refuse you access to the body?"

Doctor Smith waved a hand, "Inspector Carson, for all his idiosyncrasies, represents another time. He is the keeper of the traditions and secrets of that period and, as such, deserves our respect. It's not often one can touch history in another person. He guards that time and we're on the verge of forgetting it."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"We need to remember the past, Detective, so we grow from it. What purpose did it serve if we forgot the lessons it taught us?"

"Not much, I'll admit, but that's the same past that prevented women like yourself becoming alienists?"

"It did but because of that we're watching the consequences unfold before our eyes." Doctor Smith laughed, "It took all my daring and brains to gain the seat I had to read at Oxford but it won't be such a trial for the generation I blaze a trail for now."

"I thought they only let women audit classes at Oxford."

"They do." Doctor Smith cringed, "Technically speaking I received my degree from Evelyn College, the sister college to Princeton, but that was through a great amount of arm twisting on my behalf by the Crawley family. They did the same for Mary since we'd audited all the classes at Oxford and had the expertise."

"It must be difficult." John mused and Doctor Smith turned to him.

"How do you mean?"

"To be a woman of capability in this society and denied the opportunity to seek out the resources to encourage your skills."

"Is it any different for those poor murdered women?" Doctor Smith's tone turned somber, "If it can be said, Detective, we're the poor of the earth. We compose half the population and yet we can't even vote for those laws we have to follow."

"At the risk of sounding like I'm trying to dismiss your concerns," John held out a hand, "The blacks in this country are treated even worse and the immigrants struggle tooth and claw for the little they have."

"Then imagine what a black woman or an Irish woman has to endure."

"I don't have to imagine." They were quiet a moment, the rocking of their cab lulling them to silence. "Doctor, I want to be perfectly clear with you."

"Please."

John gathered his courage, "I need you to tell me why you're involved in this case. What do you bring that no one else does?"

"Besides my report with the precinct and my expertise?"

"Yes." John pointed at her, "Why is the woman behind the title and the experience and the skills interested in finding a serial killer slitting the throats of prostitutes?"

"The truth?"

"I think we agreed that was how we'd speak to one another."

"Because there was a time in my life when I could've been those women and I want to find this killer to ensure that those women, no matter their profession or their birthright, gain the safety owed them."

"No one is owed safety, Doctor." John shook his head, "The tragedy of our society is that we are only given three unalienable rights."

"Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Yes, I know." Doctor Smith leaned back against the back of the cab. "Did you ever wonder why it's the 'pursuit'?"

"I've always found that those things I fought to obtain had more value."

"Don't these women deserve the chance to obtain happiness?"

"I'm not saying they don't but we can't guarantee safety to anyone in their pursuit of that happiness."

"But we are supposed to guarantee life, Detective, and I want this case so I can help these women live just a little longer if I can."

"It's a noble effort." John tried to give her a reassuring smile but it only pulled his mouth taut.

"But you find it ultimately futile?"

"I find it the road to more sorrow than joy."

"Did you walk this road by personal experience?"

"Too often and it gave me too much."

Doctor Smith sighed, looking out the window of the cab, "The Bible says 'Blessed are the poor in spirit' so perhaps it's a test to help you receive the gifts awaiting the poor and humble."

"I'm not really poor in spirit and I can't claim my trials rendered me overly humble."

"We're all poor, and humble Detective," Doctor Smith shrugged, "We're just all poor and humble in different ways."


	4. Your Huddled Masses

They reached the restaurant and Doctor Smith beat John to the door, pushing her way out and thanking the driver before waiting on the pavement for John. He joined her, pulling his coat closer as a wind whipped about them. Shivering he grimaced, feeling the cold in his leg.

"New York in the winter is a singular experience." Doctor Smith walked through the doors, nodding at the man holding them open, "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

"How long have you been here Doctor?" John shook himself off, removing his coat as Doctor Smith selected a table for them.

"Ten years." She sat, opening the menu on the plate, "I think I still prefer England."

"Don't most immigrants prefer their old homes?" John reached for his own menu, "It's why the British named New York as they did."

"Contrary to belief it was named after the Duke of York." The page turned and John caught Doctor Smith's smile over the top of his own menu, "Who carried the title of the region but was Charles II's brother."

"And later king of England himself," John lowered his menu, "I remember a few things from school."

"I can still be impressed." Both looked up as a shuffling on the carpet brought a mousey, wide-eyed looking girl to their table. Doctor Smith smiled at her and handed over her menu, "We'll take two of today's specials, Daisy, and please remind Mrs. Patmore that I prefer Yorkshire tea. I think the Detective won't mind s spot of that himself and a glass of your best red for the both of us."

Daisy took the menus, half curtsied to them, and scurried off. John opened his mouth at Doctor Smith, who only took her water glass to her lips. She kept eye contact with him, her face curling into a smile.

"You've an exceptional tendency toward risk taking, Doctor."

"Do I?" Her teeth glinted at him as she set her water back down, "I thought I sized you up just right."

"Would you care to share how you did so?"

"When you opened the menu your eyes lighted on the daily special and though you glanced at the other selections you were already set on it. Turning the pages was for something to do so you didn't keep grabbing at your leg, which has spasmed twice since we entered the restaurant. I would guess the cold's flaring up the old injury."

John gripped his leg, kneading as deep into the muscles as he could. "You're very perceptive."

"I'm supposed to be. The work I do requires me to have an eye and an ear to all the activities of my patients."

"How do they take that?"

"Depends on who the patient is." Doctor Smith slipped back in her seat to sit straighter, "But most prefer that I listen to them."

"Unlike your colleague?"

"Colleague?"

"Doctor Green."

"Doctor Green and I have very different ideas about how to treat those afflicted in the mind, Detective."

"The public seems to prefer his style."

"But those seeking real treatment come to me." Doctor Smith waved a hand as if disturbing the path of an annoying, buzzing insect, "He's a doctor for the papers and nothing more."

"All flash, no substance then?"

"Something like that." Doctor Smith laughed, "Though I once saw a picture of this bushranger in New South Wales that bore a remarkable resemblance to him."

"You've been to Australia?"

"No," Her teeth gritted in a wince, "I should've specified. I read an article about a bushranger in New South Wales that featured a photo that bore a striking resemblance to Doctor Green. Sans both legs of course since the bushranger was an amputee when he died."

"Relations?"

"Distantly, maybe. Doctor Green hails from London and since many of those in Australia do as well I could see a family tree bearing fruit on those branches."

"How well do you know him?"

"Why?" Her eyes narrowed, "Are you hoping for an introduction?"

"I'm curious." Her face softened as he smiled, "Am I not supposed to be?"

"No it's just…" She cleared her throat, "There are those in your department convinced that perhaps they should consult Doctor Green instead of me."

"I can't see Chief Crawley going for that suggestion."

"Neither can I but he isn't always going to be Chief is he?"

"One can only hope." John took his napkin from the table, placing it over his lap, "You were saying about Green."

"Yes, we attended Oxford together." Doctor Smith shrugged, "He was a good student, a brilliant theorist, and he impressed the professors there but he's an idiot and an ass."

"It must've irked you he could attain a degree you couldn't."

"That irked me about any man attending Oxford with me." Doctor Smith snorted, "I think a great many more women'll find it troublesome."

"Did you meet many women studying there with you?"

"Besides Mary?" Doctor Smith looked toward the ceiling, thinking, "There was one other woman I distinctly remember studying the harder sciences. She was brilliant and gathered quite a little cohort around her."

"A fan club?"

"One would've thought since she wore a bright red dress on her first day but no," Doctor Smith shook her head, "They were contemporaries but she was the smartest of them all, by far. Chemistry, biology, psychology, and even biochemistry were nothing to her."

"Seems a heavy load for anyone."

"She wanted to study something called teratology."

"Teratology?"

"Study of monsters."

"As in the criminally insane?" John furrowed his brow, "Like an advanced alienist?"

"No, literal monsters. She insisted on calling them abnormals but most of the professors laughed at it and only allowed her to audit their classes because they respected her father." Doctor Smith sighed, "Women don't stand much of a chance in academia."

"Now or ever?"

"I never say never, Detective." Doctor Smith turned to the ginger-headed woman who approached their table bearing a tray, "And your timing is impeccable, Mrs. Patmore."

"I never delay tea for a fellow Yorkshire lass so far from home." Mrs. Patmore studied John as he stood to shake her hand. "And you sir? Yorkshire?"

"Unfortunately no. Detective John Bates of Five Points, by way of Ireland."

"Then you're another copper working with our good Doctor here?"

"She's offering me insights and I'm learning from her, yes."

Mrs. Patmore made a sound of surprise, turning to Doctor Smith. "This one's better than the last one you had to bring here."

"Now, now," Doctor Smith grinned as John retook his seat, "We want to be nice Mrs. Patmore."

"Humph," A shake of the ginger hair gave John all he needed to form an opinion of Doctor Smith's last lunch date. "He was knocking over himself to impress you since you showed him interest."

"He's a mortician with little exposure to the living. I was doing him a favor, nothing more."

"Be careful about how you apply favors to those who think you're beautiful Anna." Mrs. Patmore motioned her arm for Daisy, who slipped out of the kitchen holding a tray of her own. "And enjoy today's special Detective."

"I'm sure I will." John smiled at Mrs. Patmore as she vanished and then at Daisy before she followed, leaving them to their meals.

"She's always lovely." Doctor Smith picked up her knife and immediately cut into the fillet on her plate, "What's your impression?"

"She cares a great deal for you." John followed the example and cut his meat into strips. "Though I'm more curious about the mortician."

"Jealousy doesn't become you Detective." Doctor Smith slid her teeth along the tines of her fork, pulling the juicy meat into her mouth.

There was a beat before John reminded himself to eat and mimicked her. He immediately set down his utensils, caught up in the taste. She smiled at him, taking another bite of her own food before speaking.

"Do you concede?"

"What?"

"Do you conceded victory."

"I didn't think we were competing."

"Poor you." Doctor Smith raised the wine to her lips, "I guess you're not as fast as I thought."

"Be careful how you play with fire, Doctor." John winked at her, "You might be risking more than you're willing to lose."

"Maybe it's worth the risk."

"Why would you risk it?"

"Why do we risk anything?" She set her utensils down a moment, sucking the residual meat from her teeth to swallow. "What makes a man like yourself leave his respected position in Five Points to come uptown and solve murders for the finer side of society?"

"You think there's more to it than just answering the call for help from a friend?"

"There's always more to our seemingly altruistic motives." She folded her arms, "Why did you, John Bates, risk losing your reputation on a case you're not sure you can even solve since it's nothing like you've ever seen before?"

"Change of pace."

"Take a vacation."

John sniggered and wiped at his mouth, placing his napkin to the side of his plate, "I'll answer your question with one of my own. What brings a woman from Yorkshire to Oxford to New York to work in a thankless field?"

Doctor Smith narrowed her eyes at him but did not answer. He held up a finger, "I think it's because you were leaving something behind."

"Really?"

"We've all got demons on our back, Doctor. We leave them behind any way we can. You left yours by trying to succeed in a field where women aren't allowed and then proving to everyone you could do it. But the key here isn't that you proved them wrong."

"No?"

"No," John pointed a finger at her, "The point is that you proved the voice in your head, the one shouting you down, wrong."

"That's your diagnosis?"

"Yes because it's also my diagnosis, Doctor." John sucked the inside of his mouth a moment before continuing, "I left Five Points because of my wife."

"You're married?" He caught the twitch at the corner of eye but did not say anything.

"I was. The law says that marriage only lasts until death does you part. And death parted us quite definitively."

"She's deceased?"

"For almost a year now. But," John shrugged, "You never quite live down that kind of shame."

"Shame?"

"That's what you call it when everyone believes you murdered your wife for being a part of the Irish mob." John rubbed his finger along the handle of his fork, "She was working for the mob but I had no idea. We went on patrol and ran afoul of some of their men."

"Not unusual in Five Points I imagine."

"No, not at all. Usually there's been an arrangement to give both sides a compromise but someone on their side fired first. We shot back and in the melee my wife took a bullet. She died of her injuries three days later."

"Three days is quite a time to be in agony."

"It was." John took a deep breath, "But everyone thought I did it on purpose."

"That you aimed for your wife and killed her by police action?"

"Exactly."

Doctor Smith pulled her wine glass to her lips again, taking a controlled sip, "I don't peg you for a murderer."

"Any copper is only ever steps away from being a murderer."

"From being a criminal."

"Excuse me?"

Doctor Smile smiled, "The phrase is that a copper is only three steps away from being a criminal."

"Murder is a crime."

"And a square is a rectangle, Detective, but a rectangle is not a square."

"I don't see your point."

"My point is," Doctor Smith took up her utensils again, "You're willing to risk your reputation to solve these murders because failure here is better than suspicion there. You're not willing to risk that people believe you crossed the line so you'll risk losing it all instead."

"And you, Doctor, are willing to risk everything to prove someone wrong. Someone, I hazard, who's not even alive."

"I wouldn't know," Doctor Smith slid another piece of meat into her mouth.

"You don't know? What's the point of proving them wrong if you don't even know if they're alive?"

"I don't know. I only know I haven't seen him since I stabbed him in the leg when I was nine." She pulled her glass toward her again, "What do you say to that?"

"That maybe his leg twinges when it gets cold too." John dug his spoon into the mashed potatoes, "And he remembers you."

"Unless he's dead, like you believe."

"Then he's watching from hell and you're successful anyway." John sucked the potatoes from the spoon, "I'm glad I'm not him."

"Why's that?"

"I doubt getting on your bad side is a good thing."

"Smart man." The knife in her hand flashed as second, "It's not wise."

They finished lunch discussing lighter topics and John waved down a cab when they reached the pavement. The sun finally broke the clouds above them but it was a ploy to trick the unwary that it might be warmer. It was not.

John opened the door for Doctor Smith and she climbed inside, shouting directions to an address he did not recognize before taking her seat. John went to close the door but she stopped him, her hand on it. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Can't bear to be parted from my company Doctor?"

"I need to show you something."

John grinned, "I'm not sure a cab is the best place for those activities."

Doctor Smith leaned forward, running a finger along his jaw, "If I wanted to show you that, I would've invited you to my home, not my institute."

"Institute?"

"Yes," She sat back as John climbed into the cab and it set off, jostling them in their seats, "My institute."

"Aren't we due back at the precinct."

"You might be but I'm a consultant for the precinct, not on their payroll." Doctor Smith smiled to herself, "It's good to work for yourself. You should try it one day."

They rode in silence until the cab halted and John opened the door. With a smiled and a nod, Doctor Smith thanked him and disembarked. By the time he exited she already paid the cab driver.

John craned his head back to see the building, whistling. "This is a wonderful piece of architecture."

"Are you an expert?"

"Just an appreciative eye." John risked a step back to take in more of it, "My mother loved this old style of brickwork."

"I think it's homely."

"You prefer that to white?"

"White suggests a sterility I don't want in my work." Doctor Smith ascended the stairs to the doors, pushing inside, "This is a place of safety and learning."

"For whom?" John followed, barely missing being hit by the door. As he went inside he noticed a dark haired man across the street, exiting a cab and keeping an eye on their building.

"By any who desire it, Detective." Doctor Smith led him up a flight of stairs, rousing John from his study to follow her, and the noise increased as they rose.

Not rightly sure what he could have said he was expecting to find, John was sure it wasn't two lines of rambunctious children and flustered parents trying desperately to herd them as four individuals worked through the chaos. One woman, chiding a young boy holding a homemade wooden sword, glanced up as Doctor Smith joined her and shook her head.

"It's the third time this week Anna. I don't think he'll be able to stay."

"He was making such progress Mrs. Hughes."

"He's terrorizing the other children and I don't think I can advocate him to stay here. He needs more intensive care or else he'll retard the progress of the others."

John's focus vacillated between the woman with a distinct Scottish brogue and Doctor Smith. She bit the inside of her lip and put her hand to her chin, dragging her fingers across her face with the motion before nodding. "Do what you think appropriate Mrs. Hughes, I trust your expertise in this."

Mrs. Hughes called to the boy and they vanished up another flight of stairs. Not two steps down the hall a tall man, accompanied by a bright-eyed blonde woman, greeted Doctor Smith. The woman hugged her and the man shook her hand before launching immediately into a prepared report.

"I've got all the accounts balanced and we're almost ready to take the three releases back to their homes today. Rose thinks little Drewe should stay an extra day, if possible, but I don't think we can manage it."

"Drewe is making good progress," Doctor Smith pointed to the blonde- Rose.

"I just think he needs as touch more work. Just tweaks."

Doctor Smith thought a moment, "If you think you can manage a home visit in the next week we'll have a better idea if he's fully adjusted."

"And if he's worse?"

"Then we bring him back for further work. Otherwise I trust your experience at a home visit."

"Thank you Anna." Rose squeezed Doctor Smith's arm, "I'll arrange it with his family when we take him back today."

"Remember not to worry them. They expect their boy back whole. I don't want them to think they've been sold a bill of bad goods."

"I'll handle it." Rose beamed and grabbed the man's arm, "Come on Atticus, we've got to get moving or we'll never make it and back before dark."

The pilgrimage up the hall continued until Doctor Smith reached a door. As she went to turn the handle a thin, gaunt woman walked up to them. She held a clipboard in her hands and smiled at them but something about felt hollow, almost wary. He smiled back and extended his hand.

"Detective John Bates."

The woman looked between his hand and his face before swallowing and facing Doctor Smith, "We've got another interview at three if you think you can manage it Anna."

"I'll just be an hour with Detective Bates here." Doctor Smith nodded at the woman, "Take their names and arrange the interview. I'll be ready for them Phyllis."

Phyllis bobbed her head, snuck a peek at John, and then braved the hallway of children in the midst of producing a determined cacophony of noise.

After all that, entering Doctor Smith's office was like finding an oasis. John removed his coat, hanging it on the hook near the door as Doctor Smith folded hers over the back of her chair at a large desk. The squeak of the wheels when she sat drew John's attention for a moment but then he glanced out the window.

In the midst of his survey he found the man, with coifed hair, pulling at a cigarette. John almost turned away, thinking the man was just enjoying his cigarette in the cold, but the man started his scan of the windows of the building. Pulling away from the window John kept a surreptitious inspection of the man below and saw him take another pull before stubbing out the cigarette. The man did not leave his position, only got more comfortable at the entrance to the park.

"What do you think?"

"Sorry?" John said over his shoulder, still watching the man and not really listening to Doctor Smith.

"Of the Institute, what do you think?"

"I'm still not entirely sure what it does." John left the window, rubbing at the back of his neck. The rising hairs there reflected in the twinge of his leg muscles.

"We're a psychiatric institute."

"And you treat children here?"

"We treat all ages and sorts. Mrs. Hughes is in charge of the children and manages their treatments once I prescribe them."

"Anyone can have them?"

"I interview each of them." Doctor Smith took a pen and started signing a pile of papers, reading the pages by scanning more than studying them. "Some parents just want to leave their children here like it's an orphanage, others want me to beat their children into submission better than they can, and others truly do need the help we provide. I find the last ones in the muddle of the others."

"What about the rest? Do Atticus and Rose work with the children like Mrs. Hughes?"

"Atticus works as our accountant, managing the finances that Mary and Matthew so generously donate."

"You're supported on their patronage?"

"In part." Doctor Smith tapped her pen between her fingers, "They provide half and I provide the other half."

"How, if I may ask?"

"I've made very wise investments with the little money I did have and Mary grows it for me."

"Very wise." John eyed the choices of chair and picked one nearest the window.

"It keeps us running and we have money left over to save in case of crisis."

"What about the other ages?"

"I manage those. The top two floors are the children's dormitories and therapy rooms. They attend a school just up the street and most are very studious." Doctor Smith stacked the signed papers and left them on the edge of desk, turning to another ledger and collection of files. "This floor is administrative and examination rooms. The next level down we use for our teenaged patients. The level below that is our operating theater and mortuary."

"You store the dead here?"

"Only those relevant to our work." Doctor Smith shook her head at something, crossing it out and scribbling furiously, "The others we leave in the capable hand of our city mortician, Mr. Moseley."

"Oh," It would not have mattered if he tried, John could not keep the hint of bitterness from his voice.

"That shade of green isn't your color, Detective." Her eyes met his a second before returning to her work.

"What about adult patients?"

"They stay at the nearest asylum." Doctor Smith blew on the page and waved it in the air to dry it. "We don't have the capacity and I'm more worried about a safe place for children suffering."

"Is that what Phyllis does, runs it while you're gone?"

"Ms. Baxter is my receptionist, inventory specialist, apothecary, and former patient." Doctor Smith paused her pen, "I wouldn't mention this unless I thought you may have future interaction with her and I want to give you fair warning."

"How so?"

" She doesn't trust men because she suffers a personality disorder."

"That doesn't like men?"

"Because of her ex-husband." Doctor Smith directed her focus to nothing in particular, "Her ex-husband manipulated and abused her to the point where she created another persona to hide herself."

"Really? Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?"

"Exactly like that." Doctor Smith put pen to paper again, "Except the tragedy of her experience didn't stop until her version of Hyde killed her husband."

"What?"

"That's why she works here," Doctor Smith finished her writing and stacked the paper with the others, "Because I vouched for her partial sanity and helped her avoid prison. As a result she works here so I can keep an eye on her to make sure her Hyde stays buried. Those are the conditions of her parole."

"And if not?"

"Then she faces the noose, Detective."

"Seems a steep price to pay for freeing yourself of your abuser."

"The court and jury saw it as unleashing a monster." Doctor Smith tapped her pen on her teeth while reading something, "They thought the monster should be killed."

"Not if you can put the monster back in its cage."

"It's not about caging the monster, Detective. It's about learning to control the monster. It's a part of us and we cannot just cut it out. We must learn to control it and then move forward, fully owning who we are with our two sides working in perfect concert with each other."

They sat in silence a moment, John stealing looks out the window periodically. Sure enough, the man still waited below. Pen scratching drew John's attention back as something else sprung into his thoughts.

"You mentioned control, in your discussion about harnessing our monsters." John arranged himself in the chair, grimacing as his leg seized.

"Yes." Doctor Smith did not look up, completely occupied with her pages.

"What do you believe about the monster inside our killer?"

"I believe they are no longer in control of their monster. That monster seeks power and will do whatever it takes to attain it."

"Do you then believe the killer already has power and seeks more or that they feel powerless and want to exercise their limited power over someone they consider less than themselves?"

"I see benefits in both theories." She looked up at him briefly from whatever occupied her attention at her desk. "I could detail them to you but time is of the essence I think."

"Then which theory seems the more likely to you?"

"The first." She set down her pen, "Those prostitutes are from a particular neighborhood."

"They did look too fine to be brought from another part of town."

"Exactly, that neighborhood doesn't lend to cheap fare. More to the point, someone who works with a prostitute like those is someone who needs to hide their particular proclivities from society. If anyone knew they had a prostitute it'd destroy them irrevocably."

"Then why take the risk?"

"Why do we risk anything Detective?" At the sound of his intake of breath she held up a finger, "The question, for the moment, is rhetorical and philosophical since we answered it at lunch."

"We answered our individual desires for taking risks, not generally. But however yes, I agree, this individual is walking among a higher echelon of society." John paused, "Am I clearly interpreting your theory so far?"

"Impeccably." The pen flicked between her fingers, twitching John's gaze at the corner of his eyes. "This is someone very careful about how everyone else would perceive them. They work very hard to present a professional, friendly, almost jovial outlook to those who know them."

"To counter the violent monster?"

"That's right."

"Then we're looking for someone wearing a mask." John snorted, "That's everyone living in this area of town, Doctor."

"This killer is different. It's true we all wear our masks, Detective," Doctor Smith took her pen in hand a moment to make another note and sign something quickly, "The killer is just wearing theirs tighter and better."

"Who ripped their mask then?"

"Pardon?" With a furrowed brow she eyed him over the desk.

"If we all wear masks then there are reasons we remove them." John ticked waved a hand, "It's said the Japanese believe we all wear three masks. One that everyone sees, one only our friends and family see, and one only we see."

"I'm not sure I grasp the connection."

"The the question is, what brought our killer to risk showing their last mask? What tore the façade on the rest of them to encourage this?"

"That's the question isn't it?" Doctor Smith leaned back in her chair, rotating it from side-to-side. "What brings out our deepest impulses and our darkest desires?"

John shrugged, "Possibly of attainment. I've known criminals who knew they'd be the first suspected of a murder but did it anyway for even the minutest chance at success."

"Daring." Doctor Smith pushed back from her desk and stood, "Stupid, to be sure, but daring."

"Indeed." John stood as well, massaging his leg. "Doctor, might I trouble you to accompany me on a stroll?"

"Do you need someone to walk you back to your precinct?"

"No," John pointed to the window, "I want a better look at whoever's been watching your Institute since we arrived."

His arms caught her before she could get to the window, pulling her back. She struggled against his grip and pointed at the window. "I'd like to see who might be preparing to terrorize my patients."

"He's got no interest in the patients in your walls. He's following us."

"And you can be sure of that?" She pushed away, huffing at him while straightening her clothing.

"I can't be sure of anything but I think a stroll in the park could put us both at ease." John gathered his coat and handed her over, "If you're willing."

Doctor Smith snatched her coat from his hands and followed him to the park across the street. He noted the man keeping to the edges of their vision as they started the path. They walked slowly, keeping their conversation light, and John stretched his right leg purposefully, trying to ease the throbbing in his muscles.

"War injury?"

"Yes but most days it just serves as a reminder."

A tinkling laugh came from her direction, "We all need those sometimes."

"I'd rather not this one."

"Don't we all wish we could trade our own sorrows for another's?"

"I think we'd hand them back for our own in less than a day." John snuck a look behind them as they rounded a corner on the trail. "But yes, we do."

"Such is the way of man. Never satisfied with what he has."

"Always believing there's greener pastures elsewhere." John squinted toward the sun, "At least the snow's melting to show us those pastures. I don't know how much more winter I could take."

"Winter not your weather Detective?"

"Not like this." He lowered his voice, "I must admit I'm still struggling with an aspect of the case you mentioned in your office."

"That doesn't sound like you, Detective."

"We can't all be brilliant.

"True."

John took a breath, "Why, if the killer already has power, would they need more?"

"We never _need_ more Detective," Doctor Smith paused a minute, dipping to check her boot before standing, "But the truth is, as we just discussed, no one is satisfied with what they have. Especially not when it comes to power."

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely?"

"Along those lines. In this case it's the drive to always have power and no one ever stops at just a little power." Doctor Smith pulled her coat closer, "It doesn't matter what power they have, it's not enough and never will be."

"So they'll keep killing until they have the power they want?"

"They'll keep killing until they're killed. This isn't something sated when a quota's reached. There is no quota, only obsession."

"Then we'll have to stop them before they let their obsession consume them."

"Such is our duty, Detective."

John kept his focus on the snow a moment before turning back to her, "What's the benefit of grabbing all that power? Even if you rise to the top then you'll just be lonely and paranoid that someone might take it from you."

"Because of that, Detective." She pointed to a family huddling in the snow. "Everyone wants the powers to escape the masses and rise to the top. No one wants to huddle at the bottom. Not even you, I reckon."

"Depends on who joins me as we huddle in the masses together I guess."

John risked a look over at Doctor Smith and saw her smiling.


	5. Yearning to Breathe Free

John returned to the precinct so late the office was almost deserted. On the ride back to the office he kept an eye out for the dark-haired man but the walk in the park lost him. A sinking feeling in John's gut had him sure the man was just biding his time but what else could John do?

He sighed, gathering his few things, and headed for the door. The bus ran all the way to his neighborhood, despite it being on the edge of Five Points. Even with the push to cleanse the city of its more criminal elements there were locations even the brave of heart did not touch. Fortunately for John, and most of the city, transportation was sacred to all.

The climb up the stairs to his flat reverberated to a chorus of shouts from the neighbors, arguments, and crying children. The cacophony was the symphony most lived their lives by, more dependable than any clock. By now, given the number of times he heard it, John was immune.

With the door open John reminded himself, again, to repair the window. It whistled as cold wind blustered past. He stuffed the rags in the hole, muffling the sound and delaying the chill. Setting his things on the table that doubled as his desk, John opened the icebox. Another mental note, more than likely to be ignored, told him to visit the market but for now the left over pub fare from the night before would have to do.

He settled at his table, pulling the file toward him, and read carefully over the poor spelling, even more abysmal grammar, and hastily written notes of the two preceding murders. All evidence, provided in neat handwriting, from the mortician indicated similarities between the first two murders and their connection to the most recent killing. What bothered John most about the murders was not their violence, but the ages of the women. Girls, not yet women but playacting at it, cut down in their prime of life by someone their occupations forced them to trust to their detriment.

So engrossed was he in his reading that the knock at the door startled him, sending the photographs sliding over the floor. John gathered them up, ignoring the repeated knocking to make sure the photographs were once again secure in the folder before closing it. Halfway to the door John changed his mind and slid the file into his satchel to ensure no one could happen on it accidently.

When he finally did reach the door, to the infinite patience of whoever decided to test their luck knocking on a door in this neighborhood at this time of night, John opened it to see Doctor Smith standing there. His mouth gaped like a fish and she raised an eyebrow to match his as they settled near his hairline.

"Do I have something on my face, Detective?"

"No," He shook his head and stepped back, "Please come in."

"How kind." She stepped through the door, removing her gloves a finger at a time. "Just what I expected."

"Shabby?"

"Simple. You don't have time for gaudiness and I appreciate it. I hate unnecessary spectacle." Doctor Smith slapped her gloves against the palm of her other hand, "Are you in the mood to visit a brothel or two?"

John choked, coughing to try and cover it but if Doctor Smith noticed she paid him no mind in her continued study of his humble flat. "Excuse me?"

"I asked if you were in the mood to visit a brothel." She narrowed her eyes, "You are familiar with the establishments and their purpose?"

"I should hope I'm a little more familiar than yourself, in that this case."

"Don't be so prudish Detective," She waved a hand to dismiss his arguments, "I'm sure you're aware there are places made to suit the desires of women just as there are for men. Some even market to both simultaneously."

"I thought that was what church was for." John walked to the table, pulling out a chair for himself before pointing to the rocking chair in the corner, "That's the more comfortable if you want to sit."

"Thank you." She sat, rocking in it a moment, "Will you come?"

"I don't usually frequent those establishments if I already have a woman for the evening, Doctor. It tends to take away from the fun, in my experience." He smiled at her and she smirked back, continuing her slow rock.

"You're not curious to try something new?"

"I always am but I don't think a range of diversified sexual experience brought you to my flat at this hour."

"You're right," She leaned forward, setting her elbows on her knees, "I want to see the conditions our women lived in."

"They're not worth seeing."

"It could tell us a little more about our killer's predilections."

"We already know our killer took them from the more affluent sectors."

"Yes but, as you rightly assessed, I'm unfamiliar with what they offer. If we knew what our perpetrator wanted from his sexual encounter then perhaps we can narrow down the potential clients."

"You think there is rhyme or reason to why those women from those locations?"

"I think for someone who goes to the trouble of killing three women in the course of a week there's a reason for everything." Doctor Smith stood, "And you should know, the man from this afternoon spent the rest of the day outside my institute."

"Does that mean you defy my argument that he is interested in our work?"

"I don't think the two are as independent as I suggested this afternoon but his persistence in one location suggests his interest is in me."

"I don't blame him." John smiled at Doctor Smith and she stopped, hands halfway to fixing her hat.

"I do hope I didn't mistake your insinuation as unintentional innuendo."

"It was entirely intentional, Doctor." John stood as well, "And I still believe he was watching the two of us."

"Jealous of our company?"

"I don't know who wouldn't be but," John pulled his coat from the rack, checking his pockets for everything he needed before turning to the top drawer of his dresser, "I think there's something more insidious to his presence than just gawking at your institute."

"Can I assume, by your acquisition of a firearm," She pointed to the revolver John pulled from the drawer, "That you're coming with me?"

"When could I ever refuse a woman's request to visit a house of ill repute?" He waved his hand toward the door, "After you Doctor."

Doctor Smith stopped, holding the door a moment, and turned back, "Given our extended conversations, and in the interest of using our time as wisely as possible, might I suggest we address one another by our first names? Especially since we're about to go where I think our professions will lead to snapped traps instead of loose lips."

"If you wish… Anna."

"I do." She headed into the hallway. "Come on John, if we're late we'll miss their busiest time."

They walked to the street where a cab, the driver worrying the reins in his hands, waited. Anna climbed into the back and John joined her, his back once again to the driver. She hit the roof while calling out their address and John had to put his hand to the side as the whip snapped the horse into an incredibly swift trot.

"I don't think our driver much cares for your neighborhood, John."

"I don't either so I share his sentiment." John adjusted in his seat, "When you said girls, earlier, do you know their ages?"

"None of them over twenty." Anna looked out the window, "So much wasted potential. Life is worse when lost to the young."

"Do you think the younger girls provide less of a fight for our killer?"

"If it was about fighting I suspect there are other ways to keep a victim docile enough to strangle them." Anna faced him, "I might postulate surprise in the attack but I think it's more to do with the gender of the victim."

"You don't think the profession has anything to do with it?"

"As we discussed in your office today, no, I don't."

"Easy targets then."

"Didn't you have those in the Army?" Anna crossed her legs and John shifted his jaw. "If I've crossed a line in my interrogation-"

"No, you're right." John swallowed, "Have you seen my army file?"

"No, I haven't read your file, though I was tempted to visit the Army Office after you left this afternoon. As of this moment I only know what Chief Crawley told me when I questioned him at dinner."

"You ate dinner with him?"

"I'm a frequent guest at the Crawley house. Remember, I attended Oxford with their oldest and I was a secret advocate for Sybil to claim her place in nursing." Anna sighed, "They serve as more my family than I've ever had."

"Shame for your real family."

"How so?"

"They lost the pleasure of your company."

"And I believe we've lost the train of our conversation." Anna smirked at him, "Is this how you interrogate your suspects?"

"Distraction tends to let them feel comfortable enough to tell you what they might not otherwise." John peeked out the window, "But I left the army shortly after the massacre at Wounded Knee."

"I was told it was a battle."

"That's how the papers reported it. No one wants to admit that under false pretenses soldiers in their army slaughtered a village of natives." John shook his head, "I admit, my work in the west 'suppressing' native tribes was not the honorable living I thought I'd make serving my adopted country."

"But you served well?"

"I served as I could." John sucked his tongue, "I've no doubt the pages of history will be no kinder to us an what we did than they will be to the British when they speak of the Revolution."

"So it goes when history is written by victors and newspapers looking for the sensation of the moment."

"Speaking of newspapers," John leaned forward, "Branson."

"What about him?"

"In the file I noticed he already published two articles about these killings."

"That is his job, John."

"He'll create a panic."

"Or help us find the perpetrator." Anna leaned toward John as well so their heads were inches apart, "You never know how much you can accomplish if you're friendly with Tom Branson."

"And how friendly are _you_ with Mr. Branson, Anna." John teased and she shrugged.

"In a familial fashion. He married Sybil and since I helped Sybil meet him, in a roundabout way, he owes me a great deal."

"Just familially?"

Anna laughed, "I'm starting to think you enjoy acting the jealous man, John. Am I wrong about you?"

"That depends," He moved slightly closer, whispering against her ear and smiling to himself when he saw her shiver, "Do you want me to be jealous?"

"I'm not sure," Anna drew back, "Professional entanglements, in my experience, should never turn personal."

"Worried I can't separate church and state?"

"Worried you won't want to. And I know I wouldn't." The cab stopped and Anna pulled the door open, "To work, John."

He exited the cab, nodding to the man who appeared more scandalized by their destination than he had by John's building, and snapped his horse away so fast he did not wait for another fare. John sniggered and followed Anna to where she stood outside a building. Digging in her pocket she withdrew a folded piece of paper and passed it over to John.

"Your officer, James I think his name is, told me he recognized one of the girls. He only gave me an address, seemed too embarrassed to admit he'd ever had relations with a prostitute."

"Men like others to believe women fall all over them and they never have to go looking for companionship from the ladies of the night." John read the address, "Pride being what it is."

"Do you think that's what drives men to more violent crime?" Anna turned to him, "The idea that there's something they should have and don't?"

"I've no doubt entitlement plays a role in it. I've seen husbands murder their wives because their dinner wasn't cooked to perfection," John folded the paper and pointed, "That one, The Abbey."

"Is the name ironic or tragic?"

"I think the better question is," John shifted Anna's shoulders out of the way of a man tumbling from the brothel to their left, spewing into the roadway, "Are we speaking grammatically or factually?"

"Tragic then."

John nodded in agreement and led her up the steps to the brothel. They entered and he squinted through the smoky haze, his ears immediately ringing with the clang of the out-of-tune keys banged in the corner by two men swaying not so much with the music as with their drinks. Two women, girls like the others, moved with them. Even from a distance John could see the stretched smiles, the spark-less eyes, and the determined joviality.

"Looking for an adventure, sailor?" One of the women, a ginger with large brown eyes, grabbed at John's coat and tried to pull him toward the floor.

"No and I'm not a sailor." He struggled to unlatch her talons from his lapel without breaking her fingers. "We're here to see your matron."

"We don't need anyone watching over us. They just ruin the fun." She grinned, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him toward her overly rouged lips. "We're all on our own here."

"I doubt that." John slipped under her arm, stepping back and straightening his coat, "We need to see your matron about the girl who died."

"Oh," The woman sobered immediately, "You're here about Emilia?"

"Is that her name?" Anna stepped forward, putting a hand on the other woman's arm. "Did you know here?"

"She was my friend." The ginger sniffed and Anna helped her to a rickety chair, bending at the waist to maintain eye contact. "We didn't know what happened to her until they published her picture in the paper."

"Do you know anything about the man who was with her that night?"

The woman went to answer but a woman with a face like thunder interrupted them, "I think you'd best get back to your duties Ethel unless you don't like your accommodations here."

"No, I love it here Ms. O'Brien."

"Then demonstrate it by getting back to work."

The ginger, Ethel, jumped to her feet and practically ran away from John and Anna, leaving them alone with the woman boasting a pinched face and skeptical eyebrows. "I'll ask you not to disturb the girls at their work. Unless you want to engage their services all I can tell you is that the door is behind you and I suggest you use it."

"We're here about Emilia," Anna avoided the hand John put out to catch her, walking right at the woman with a face like a Scottish sky. "We're investigating her murder."

"What do you think I know about it?"

"It's more what you knew about her."

"She worked here and now she doesn't. I've got nothing else to say about the matter or her."

"Do you really care so little for the girls who work for you?" John clenched his jaw as O'Brien sneered.

"These girls are one in a dozen. If I lose one then I find another. Emilia was no better than Ethel or any other girl who works here. They open their legs or their mouths and get the job done. They give me the cut I ask and they get a place to stay."

"It's as simple as that then?" Anna scoffed, "I can see why you're good at what you do. When you acquired this location was 'lack of a soul' a prerequisite for them to allow you to sign the contract?"

"Careful now Ms. Sharp, you may cut yourself on that tongue of yours."

"It's _Doctor_ Sharp, Ms. O'Brien, and the only one I plan to cut is you." Anna pointed to the brightly colored walls, the cracked veneer of the tables, and the mismatched chairs. "You're no more than a glorified slumlord taking opportunity from vice to carve yourself a little niche in this world."

"Aren't we all?"

"Not all of us need to also ensure our place in hell while we're at it." Anna looked over O'Brien, "I'm sure you'll be welcome there."

"Don't act so high and mighty with me," O'Brien stepped toward Anna, menacing her with a curled up lip and shaking fists at her sides, "You came here looking for something. You walked yourself into a den of iniquity."

"I see nothing here but pity." Anna shook her head, "We came here to discover more about the poor girl who died working for you. I thought perhaps you might have a bit of a conscience about it but I guess you're heart's as black as the mold growing on your ceiling."

"You want something about Emilia then here it is, she didn't like her job and ran away with a man who told her he'd give her something better." O'Brien cackled, "I guess she wasn't expecting it to be the Afterlife."

"You-" Anna went to say something else but John put a hand on her arm. "We'll be going now, Ms. O'Brien. Thank you for your time."

O'Brien shook her head, "Don't bring your cat next time you come here, sir. She's a distraction and may be too much for you to handle and get a grip on any of my girls at the same time."

"I can promise, we won't be back here." John steered Anna toward the door and they made it to the street before Anna broke out of John's grip.

John stood to the side as she paced the pavement, holding her hands to the side of her head as she seethed through gritted teeth. After a moment she calmed herself, taking in deep breaths of air that puffed out in misty clouds on the exhale. When Anna collected herself she turned back to John.

"Thank you, John, for helping me there."

"Yes, thank you John," John had his hand in his coat as a pair of hands grabbed his arms. They wrested his arm free and the dark-haired man from that afternoon reached inside to pull out John's revolver, "We thought we'd have to wait all night for you to sate yourself in there but I guess you work fast."

John did not respond, looking over at Anna, holding herself stiffly in the clutches of a man twice her width and head and shoulders taller than her. She nodded at him and John turned back to the dark-haired man. "I don't recall us being introduced."

"We haven't been."

"But you seem like such a fan, following me around today and now waiting for us outside this establishment." John smiled at the man, "I always try to be considerate of those who admire my work."

"Then you'll like where we're taking you." The man gestured to the men holding John and they forced him into an ambulance. A moment later the two men entered, each sitting on either side of John, and the dark haired man ushered Anna and her captor inside before joining them. He slapped the wall of the ambulance and the driver clicked to the horse.

With a jolt they moved and John shook off the grip of the other men, looking at the man with dark hair. "What is it you want?"

"It's not what I want, Detective, this has nothing to do with me. It's all about what Mr. Carlisle wants. It's always about what Mr. Carlisle wants."

"The gangster?"

"He prefers the term 'philanthropist' in public." Anna met John's confused face, "I've met him at more than one gala or fancy function. Has more money than he knows what to do with and likes putting his name all over buildings."

"Let's not speak so unkindly about my employer, Doctor," The man tsked at Anna, "He supported your charity auction last autumn."

"His donation was pennies to the dollar." She glared at him, "And don't think I don't recognize you better in horrendous lighting, Thomas Barrow. In broad daylight you're a mystery but skulking in shadows you're all too familiar to me."

"That wasn't kind."

"I'm not in the mood for kindness when held in the back of a vehicle against my will."

"We could hold you outside it."

"Just try," John's voice was low, forced through his clenched jaw, but he saw Barrow shudder slightly.

"Just be patient and all will be revealed."

They kept themselves quiet until the ambulance stopped. The muffled noises on the other side of the walls soon hit them full force as Thomas pushed the doors open. He jumped out, motioning for the others to follow him quickly.

John moved with the arms under his, elbows and shoulders jammed into his back to get him out of the ambulance. Anna hissed at the man holding her but neither John nor Anna fought as their animalistic escort led them into a ramshackle building. They ascended the stairs, the only onlookers those who thought about leaving their rooms for a moment before seeing the cohort and thought better of it.

When they reached the roof Thomas opened the door and led them to the roof where a man, discussing something intently with a gaggle of people, stood on the edge.

"That's the vision I have. A grand city made for a new generation. Standing as a beacon of light to all the world." He turned in their direction before clearing his throat, "It seems that dreams will have to wait for another night. But sleep well and think about the future you'll help me build here."

The gaggle dispersed and John bit his tongue to keep from calling out to the men in fancier suits than this neighborhood usually hosted. The man approaching them clapped his hands together, keeping his voice calm, "Sorry about that. I didn't expect them to be so interested in the venture. I thought I'd have you all to myself the moment you arrived but I guess I was wrong."

"Not used to explaining how you intend to swindle them?" Anna voiced and John smiled to himself as the man turned to her.

"Doctor Smith, that's no way to treat a fellow member of the Four Hundred Club."

"I'm not a member of the club. My friends are and I occasionally join with them, but I'd rather vomit than associate myself in the same circle as you, Mr. Carlisle."

"Feeling left out in the case of the Christmas donation box this year?"

"I'd be surprised if you made any donations at all."

"Oh I did," Carlisle gestured to the men holding them, "How do you think I have these gentlemen to help me?"

"I'm more interested in their names and addresses so, when the time arises, I can press charges for the unlawful detainment of an officer in the course of his duty." John risked and Carlisle turned to him.

"I remember your face from the papers. You're the Five Points detective who killed his wife in a shootout with the Irish mob about a year ago aren't you?"

"Wasn't my bullet," John felt the hands on his arms slacken slightly. "But what's it to you?"

"That's for another time because I believe the question I had Thomas bring you up here to answer was what do you care about the deaths of three common whores?"

"Why, did you have a hand in it?" John slipped his arms slightly in his coat, grateful he never fully buttoned it.

"I may be a suspected gangster, detective, but if I want someone dead then they go missing. I don't pay people to slit the throats of working girls. Why would I threaten an industry that benefits me?"

"Benefits your new housing project that would tear down their brothels?" Anna spoke up, "Is that what you mean?"

"You make me sound quite the destructive devil, don't you Doctor?" Carlisle walked to the edge of the roof. "I see a greater New York City. One built of hard work and opportunity that doesn't stink to high heaven or bury you up to your ankles in the muck."

"Giving everyone their chance to 'breathe free'?"

Carlisle turned, shaking his finger like he was considering something intently. "That's not a bad way to describe it. Aren't we all just yearning to breathe a little more freely?" He laughed, "It's a wonderful phrase. I think I'll use in in the next sales pitch. Thank you Doctor."

"Don't mention it."

"What've we to do with your little scheme? We're trying to stop a killer. Aren't they the antithesis of your little enterprise?" John tested his arms, feeling the coat pull in the grip of his captors.

"Killers keep people in line. If they believe someone will murder them in their beds they vote for drastic measures, sanction increased police, and advocate for extreme repercussions on possible suspects."

"You'd build your new empire on a lie to make sure you get the help you need to crush those in your way?" John shook his head, "That's disgusting."

"That's the future, Detective. Now," He stood in front of Anna, "Will you please leave this killer to whatever elements bore them and go about your merry way making trouble elsewhere?"

Anna's response was to butt her head into Carlisle's chin. He stumbled back, Thomas struggling to catch him before he hit the rooftop. John snatched his hands from his coat. The men holding him took too long in their surprise and John punched one hard enough to feel the crack of bone under his knuckles. The other struggled to reach for his weapon but John brought his forehead down on the man's nose, stunning him long enough to knock his chin with a fist.

Both hit the ground and John grabbed his coat, collecting a gun from the pocket of the one now breathing shallowly on the rooftop. John checked the gun and turned in time to ducked Thomas's wild swing. He blocked the next throw and wrapped his arm around Thomas's neck. The man beat at John's arms as he snuck a hand into Thomas's pocket and removed the revolver he took from John.

When Thomas's arms beat less insistently at John he released him to the rooftop. By the slamming of the door John assumed Carlisle was already halfway down the building's interior stairwell and shrugged him off. A moan altered him to where Anna brought her locked fists across in a heavy swing to land her behemoth of a guard on the ground.

"Impressive," John walked toward her, offering the nabbed gun while slipping his arms back into his coat sleeves, "Do you know how to use one?"

She took the gun, checked the bullets, and cocked it, "Simple enough."

"Good." John ducked as a crack echoed around them.

Anna grabbed his arm and they sprinted over the rooftop, away from the door and Thomas's wild shots. John guided her into a zig-zag pattern, eventually taking cover behind a large ventilation shaft. He risked a look but ducked back when a bullet whizzed by.

Taking up his gun John whipped out from their hiding spot and let off one shot. He spun back into place as a scream echoed in the night. The image brought another scream to mind, this one more feminine, but John pushed it away.

"Thomas and the two who held me left."

"Two on three, I like those odds," Anna went to turn but John pulled on her arm, urging her back. "Afraid to exchange a little fire, John?"

"We've got eleven bullets between us and we're short a person. More to the point, it's dark and we're more likely to miss than hit them." John pointed to the rooftop across a small alley from them. "How well do you jump?"

"Not well enough to make that."

Another bullet hit near them and John ducked to cover Anna. "We don't have a choice."

He hauled her up, sprinting for the edge. They jumped simultaneously and for a moment they sailed through the air. John reached out his free hand and caught the edge of the fire escape of the other building. His body hit the metal hard, knocking the air from his chest, and his other arm jerked in place as he maintained his crushing grip on Anna's wrist.

She swung underneath him, landing on the level below them. John maneuvered and landed next to her, motioning her to the stairs and they ran down them until John jumped to the pavement. He held his arms up and caught her when she dropped.

He went to leave Anna pulled him into the shadows. John furrowed his brow but she only put a finger to her lips. They both craned their heads up to see Thomas and his partner looking over the edge of the building. From the distance their curses were muffled and they disappeared a moment later.

Anna gave a low whistle, "That was close."

"A little more adventure than I intended for the evening."

"Be careful the next time a woman invites you to a brothel." Anna straightened her hat and hair, "Thank you John."

"For?"

"You provided a more than adequate landing."

"My pleasure," John pointed to the end of the alley and they started toward it, "Anything I can do to be of further service, say the word and I'm there."

"Then allow me to be of service to you," Anna pulled him to a halt before they exited the alley, "I know for a fact you didn't kill your wife."

"Did you read the report?"

"No."

"Then you're only saying that because you like me."

"Be my personal feelings what they may," Anna risked a twitch of her lip into a smile, "Your aim is far too excellent. If you'd shot your wife she would've died instantly."

"You're sure?"

"My anatomy courses were thorough and knowing the destructive power of the bullet, yes I am sure." Anna led them from the alley, "Salve your conscience and sleep peacefully tonight."

"Sleep and rest are not for the wicked."

"I don't plan on making you wicked tonight John."

"But you do plan on it?" John waved an arm for a passing cab and laughed when he recognized the driver from earlier in the evening.

"If I do, would you say no?" Anna climbed into the back and John waited for her to give directions to her home.

"I'd be more than honored." Anna went to speak but John shook his head, "But, it's been quite a day and more time in one another's company now would do more harm than good I think."

"Familiarity breeds contempt?"

"Something along those lines."

They rode to Anna's home in silence and he escorted her to the door, noting the twinges of dawn on the horizon. "I don't think I've ever had reason to walk a lady back to her residence so early."

"Where you the one sneaking out?" Anna grinned and John put a hand to his chest. "Greeting the sun with your guilty conscience?"

"I'll have you know, Doctor Smith, that I'm nothing if not a gentleman in my nightly endeavors. Any early departures are entirely necessary."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I am. I personally ascribe to the belief that a man owes it to leave a lady completely and wholly satisfied. I never leave before that happens."

"Hm," She shrugged, "As a scientist I'd have to experiment on that to prove your hypothesis correct."

"You're welcome to experiment at your earliest convenience."

John leaned toward Anna but a sound from the street drew their attention. Another cab pulled up behind theirs and Inspector Carson leaned out, calling to them.

"You'd better come. There's been another one."


	6. The Wretched Refuse

John helped Anna out of the carriage and both followed Inspector Carson into the alley. Talbot already had his camera at the ready, exposing his plates at regular intervals in a circle around the body. John rubbed at his eyes, the excitement and duration of the night pulling at him, and turned to Carson.

"What do we know?"

"Milkman found her this morning. From all appearances she matches the actions of the previous killings."

"Two in three days?" Anna stepped behind Talbot, making sure she did not interfere in the photographs as she studied the body, "Escalation is never a good thing."

"I wouldn't think so." Carson cleared his throat, "The question is why?"

"Something incited the killer." John sucked the inside of his cheek, "Maybe something happened to them to give this kind of response?"

"Their control is slipping." Anna turned back to him before nodding at Talbot as he moved his equipment away and allowed her to investigate closer.

"Is that your opinion as an alienist, Doctor?"

Anna bent down to check the woman's neck and nodded, "Yes. Your assessment that something changed for our killer is correct."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Other than the length of time between killings?" Anna looked up at him, still balancing on the balls of her feet in her crouched position.

John smiled, "Yes."

"Her neck," Anna pointed to it and John crouched on the other side of the body to look closely at it. "The bruises from her strangulation are far more pronounced. Unlike the other three, though I do want a side-by-side comparison to be sure, she was throttled, not just strangled."

"Excessive force?"

"Someone in rage. This wasn't simply the acting out of a fantasy but the violent expression of deep emotion." Anna drew her finger in the air over the slit throat, "And the edges are far more jagged. This was finished in great internal conflict. Our killer felt something more deeply about this than the others."

"Then we need to get this body to the morgue. Compare her to the first three to ensure your assessments are correct Doctor." John stood and turned to Carson, "Is the ambulance on the way?"

"We sent a runner for Doctor Moseley as soon as I came for Ms. Smith. He should be here with the quarter hour."

"Good."

"Detective," Carson cleared his throat and John faced him, "While we wait, may I have a word in private?"

"Certainly Inspector," John turned to Anna and Talbot, "Continue your investigations to see what you can find before the body leaves the scene. Anything we can get is helpful."

"Will do Detective," Anna returned to her examination of the body as John grabbed Talbot's arm as the man passed him.

"When could you have those photographs ready?"

"By this afternoon."

"Good work." John clapped his shoulder and Talbot was almost out of the alley when John called out to him, "And should you see Mr. Branson skulking about… I want to speak to him at the precinct."

Talbot nodded as John walked to where Carson stood near the entrance to the alleyway. "How can I help you Inspector?"

"It may not be my place," Carson swallowed, "But I must ask as to the details of your relationship with Ms. Smith."

"I believe her correct term of address is 'Doctor' Smith, Inspector."

"Yes, I apologize, Doctor Smith."

John studied Carson's face a moment, "Are you worried for her, Inspector?"

"I've known Ms. Smith since before she was Doctor Smith, Detective, and I know her mind. She's relentless, inquisitive, and intelligent. I fear that if we have a killer as violent as this one appears to be, it might upset her sensibilities and impede her work."

"Her work for our department?"

"Her work with those children at her insitute, Detective." Carson shuffled. "My wife works closely with her and noted her distraction yesterday due to your presence and the discussion of this case."

"If you're concerned with how this affects the good Doctor's professional sphere why not bring it up to her?"

"It's not my place, Detective. Chief Crawley requested her aid on this case and I would be remiss to step in the way of that request. However, I believe you and the Doctor have a more cordial relationship that would allow for this line of inquiry without sparking her ire." Carson rolled his shoulders back as John chuckled.

"I'm not sure how well you think I know Doctor Smith, Inspector, but anyone proposing that her focus is divided to an unacceptable level with this case or her duties at her institute would be subject to her wrath."

"Be that as it may, I believe it needs to be said." Carson pointed back toward the body, "And while this may seem obvious to such keen observers as yourselves, given your experience, I think it significant to note how much these women look like Doctor Smith."

"Are you saying that you worry she could see herself in these murdered women, Inspector?" John felt the color leave his face, "Or are you worried she may be next?"

"I'm worried if any woman is next, Detective. In this case my personal relationship to Ms. Smith does exacerbate my concern for her, both on an emotional and a physical level. I could not bear any harm to come to someone I consider as close to me as I would children of my own."

John put a hand on Carson's shoulder, "I'm sure if you express these worries to Doctor Smith she'll be touched and answer your concerns with appropriate consideration."

"And you?"

"I trust Chief Crawley and Doctor Smith's assessments of her personal skills. Thus far, in our discussions, I've learned a great deal about the possible drives of our killer. That's invaluable to our investigation and I would otherwise be in the dark."

"Nothing you gathered in your work in the slums of Five Points has helped with the case?"

John narrowed his eyes, "I do hope, Inspector, there's no frustrations in the precinct that I've been put in charge of this investigation. Or recruited from my former post to help handle this case?"

"Your record in Five Points makes you the obvious candidate for such a venture but I would suggest, if you're open to suggestions given you're new to this style of police work so far uptown, you might share what you've learned with those working with you." Carson straightened his uniform, "I don't prefer to feel like I'm behind or in the dark myself when chasing a dangerous killer in my jurisdiction."

"I respect that and, once we return to the office, I'll be giving a detailed briefing of what Doctor Smith and I've gathered and surmised thus far in the investigation." John peeked over his shoulder at the body, "Now, I think we owe it to that woman to focus on her death instead of ourselves."

"Very good sir," Carson dipped his head, "I do hope I haven't overstepped a line and created a problem for our relationship."

"None at all Inspector," John smiled, "I prefer those who speak about what bothers them instead of letting it fester inside."

"Then," Carson lowered his voice, "Might I be so bold as to ask again about the personal relationship between yourself and Ms. Smith?"

"There is none."

"You were outside her building, with her, this morning."

"We'd just come from an investigation of our own and I was seeing her home safely since I didn't fancy leaving her to the likes of man that wanders in the small hours." John shrugged with one shoulder, "Doctor Smith and I are consummate professionals in this Inspector, I promise."

"Then I'll say no more about it. It's her safety and reputation I want to protect above all else and I trust your honor to protect it as well."

"I promise it's of paramount importance to me," John walked over to the body, tapping Anna on the shoulder, "Anything interesting?"

"Other than the increased violence," She stood, shaking her head, "Nothing I can gathered until I see her body with the others at the morgue."

A ringing bell drew all attention to the end of the alley. William and Alfred appeared, leading the horse-drawn ambulance. Both helped unlatch the back, drawing out a stretcher, and carried it toward the woman's body as a balding man hopped off the front. He twitched, as if nervous or just waiting for an order, and walked toward the body.

"Never seen them at the scene," He laughed, or tried to but it caught in his throat like the nerves left him without adequate lubrication. "Always on the slabs or in theater… it's a different feeling."

John raised an eyebrow as Anna approached the man, extending her hand, "Doctor Moseley, I hope we didn't wake you too early."

"The dead don't sleep and neither do I Doctor Smith." Moseley took Anna's hand and John felt a bristle at the back of his neck but shook it away. "I was actually wondering if we want to take special care with her?"

"With all of them," Anna stepped out of the way as William and Alfred lifted the stretcher between the two of them and carried it to the ambulance, maneuvering it into the back. "I actually want to examine them all side-by-side if that's feasible."

"I can have another table brought in." Moseley smiled at John, one side of his mouth twitching upward without the rest of it, "I usually don't keep more than three at a time but with these killings… oh…. We need more room. There's always more dead than you think. And these are the worst of them all. Never seen something so bad in my life. Almost enough to give one nightmares… if they sleep, that is."

John glanced at Anna as Moseley laughed to himself again. She shook her head, biting her lip as her mouth tried to rise into a laugh of her own. "They are rather gruesome, aren't they?"

"Yes," Moseley's eyes went wide for a moment before settling, "And horrible. To treat someone this way."

"How soon could you have the morgue ready, Doctor?" John cut in and Moseley jumped slightly, taking measure of John before swallowing so forcefully his Adam's apple bobbed.

"By noon. I could have her documented, washed, and ready."

"Then we'll be there." Anna put a hand on his arm, "Thank you Doctor."

"I live to serve." He giggled nervously before going back to the ambulance and snapping the reins to send the nag back into the roadway just starting to echo with noise.

John narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips at the departing ambulance. A snicker at his side had him looking down at Anna. She covered her mouth but the laughter bubbled out until she was bent double, practically sobbing.

"Is something especially funny Doctor?" John asked, noting Carson sending William and Alfred to the streets to canvas for possible witnesses.

"No- no it's-" She wiped at her eyes, "You're threatened by him."

"What?"

"The moment he acted kind toward me you became all possessive." She gathered her breath, "It was romantically Neanderthalic."

"Neanderth-" John cleared his throat, "Doctor Smith if I-"

"Detective," Anna put a hand on his arm, "I wouldn't have used the word 'romantic' if I thought it was anything less than that."

"I'm not sure we've known one another long enough to justify those sentiments."

"Depends on whether we're using the literary definition or the emotional one." Anna grinned at him, "I prefer the latter but you may use the former if it makes you more comfortable."

"That's not-" John huffed, "I just mean to say that I believe it would be acting too quickly to assume that I could think to have any sort of claim at all on you."

"And I find that rather thoughtful." Anna yawned, "Excuse me. I believe this evening turned out much more eventfully than I anticipated."

"You're the one who wanted to visit a brothel."

"Yes but then we were abducted by Carlisle's men, found a body, and made an appointment at the morgue." Anna took a deep breath, staving off another yawn. "It's been a long day."

"I can't agree more."

"If you like, Detective, since your flat is so much farther away than mine, you are welcome to one of my guest rooms to rest before we meet with Doctor Moseley."

"I need to assemble my team and update them on the situation." John rubbed at his face, sleep tugging on his eyelids like determined beggars. "I'll find some corner of the precinct to lie down when I've a moment."

"Just make sure you're caring for yourself, eh Detective?"

"Doctor's orders?"

"If need be."

They walked out of the alley, John flagging down a passing cab for Anna. He pulled the door open and she entered, sitting back against the seats. When the door clicked she looked back over at him.

"See you at noon, Detective."

"Noon, Doctor."

* * *

As per Inspector Carson's request, John assembled Chief Crawley, Officers William, Alfred, and James, Talbot, and even Branson to a meeting at the precinct as soon as William and Alfred finished a fruitless canvas. All the neighbors claimed to be asleep and if they did see something they did not trust the police enough to tell them. Doors were slammed in William's face so often one caught his nose and the appendage practically pulsed in its swollen redness. William even held a wrapped piece of ice to it, trying to manage the swelling, but the ice just dripped onto the floor as if setting an even cadence for John's discussion.

John explained to them what he and Anna devised about the killings and the killer. None of the younger officers had the experience to not gasp at the idea it might be a female perpetrator while Chief Crawley just shifted in his chair. Carson spoke up with a few questions when John's explanations delved a little too far into the killer's psychology but mostly the team seemed to understand. By the looks on their faces Talbot grasped more than the others but he studied the bodies more than the others. First at the scene and then with his photographs.

When John dismissed the others he called Talbot and Branson back. Branson, shaking out his hand from all the furious scribbling that broke his pencil at least once and tore through his paper twice, took a seat while Talbot stood.

"Mr. Talbot, with your photographs, have you noticed anything I didn't mention in the briefing?"

"Nothing as yet." Talbot put his hands in his pockets, "I do wonder if the placement of the bodies is significant."

"Like a pagan ritual or offering?"

"Nothing so demonic or enthusiastically religious. In fact I'd postulate there is nothing about this kind of event that screams religious zealotry but I'll leave those thoughts to the good Doctor." Talbot walked to the board and tapped on the first picture, "When I say placement I mean how the killer placed the bodies themselves."

"Could you elaborate?"

"This last one, as you noted, was more violent but the others… it was almost ritualistic in the way one might put a child or ailing loved one to sleep. Gentle, in a perverse way." Talbot faced them again, shrugging, "Does that make sense?"

"The Doctor did mention control being a factor." John joined Talbot, "If it's about control then the killer wants to treat the body in a way that suggests affection. The fantasy includes a component of mercy to it."

"Taking the woman away from something horrible and giving her the peace only they can." Talbot shuddered, "People taking the work of God into their hands."

"I don't know if this killer believes in God."

"When on takes a life, Detective, there is nothing more real than God." Talbot nodded to him, "I'll develop my plates to get you those photographs."

"Thank you Talbot." John waited for him to leave before addressing Branson. "I owe you an apology."

"For threatening my fingers?" Branson laughed, "I've had Chief Crawley threaten more bodily harm to me than that, Detective. If you want to scare me away, you'll have to do better."

"That's the thing," John winced, "I don't want to scare you away anymore since I actually need your help."

"And, if we're playing quid pro quo, what do I get in return for being of a generous mind toward the police?" Branson folded his arms, "I'm not free you know."

"I'm aware. I also know you do some work for Tammany Hall on the side," Branson shuffled but John held out a hand, "I'm not here to string you up for hedging your bets with those who represent your interests. Nothing wrong with making sure there's someone watching your back in a world like this one."

"Is that what you want me to do?"

"I need you to find out all there is to know about a man named Carlisle and his crony, Thomas Barrow."

"Carlisle? Richard Carlisle the developer?"

"I believe Doctor Smith referred to him as a gangster."

"He's a thug, no two ways about it." Branson sucked the inside of his cheek a moment, "He's got no heart for immigrants, unless they labor away in his sweat shops or do his dirty work in the streets, and he'd rather burn Manhattan to the ground than see it overrun with what he considers the scum of the earth. He opposes the whole idea of this motion being put forward about 'The Greater New York' and I've seen what he's done to try and dissuade people from it."

"What about Barrow?"

"He's a dandy, everyone knows but no one says. He's not kind or overly intelligent but he's resourceful and subtle. Uses everything to his gain, no matter how small, and it's got folks from all over Downtown and Uptown owing him favors. He uses those to manipulate and twist people to his whim. He's Carlisle's right hand in everything. I'd steer clear and give him nothing to use against you."

"What've we got against them?"

"Nothing. They've paid to all the right people and can't be touched." Branson paused, "Why, they touching you?"

"They abducted Doctor Smith and I last night. Carlisle in particular wanted us off this case." John lowered his voice, eyes darting to the doorway to make sure no one overheard, "Any ideas why?"

"Killer on the loose keeps people scared. Keep people scared and he moves freely. When people are scared they don't ask questions and they don't press. They just want security and they don't care how they get it. People'll wrap themselves in thorns if they think it keeps someone else away, forgetting they too get stabbed."

"True." John nodded, "Here's my proposition."

"I'm listening."

"You keep an eye on Carlisle and Thomas's movements. Thomas followed us around yesterday and seems pretty intent on doing his boss's bidding. He may be even more inclined to get us off the case now since I killed one of his co-workers in our escape."

"You killed one?"

"Yes but I doubt anyone'll find a body unless it washes up in Jersey."

"No chance. Carlisle believes in brick or stone shoes."

"Then just keep an eye on them."

"Can I print what I find?" The gleam in Branson's eyes almost rivaled the sunlight from the window.

"Whatever you want and, as part of your deal, you also get access to the details of this case for a final story when we catch the killer."

"Not before?"

"I don't want to risk tipping our hand." John turned to his board, "This killer is methodical, violent, and smart. Last night aside, he'll be watching us for a reaction. We need to make sure we're not helping him more than ourselves."

"So print that a poor girl was found dead, police are looking into it, and we ask respect for the family of the girl?" Branson filled his notebook shut, "Not much chance of her family getting that respect, if she even still has one."

"The shame of a daughter who's a prostitute." John nodded, "I remember the shock and distress on the mother's faces when we reported their daughters in police custody because we found them in the flesh trade"

"So it goes when you've nowhere to go."

"I do want this said, when you report the story," John put a hand behind his back, pointing the other at Branson, "The police are utilizing every resource available to catch this killer. I don't want anyone believing that where they were found or what occupation they had holds any sway on the rigor of this investigation."

"That'll give comfort to those poor girls now fearing for their lives." Branson slipped his arms through his coat, "But they needn't worry."

"Why'd you say that?"

"Only the shorter, thinner, blonde ones have died so far. If you're looking for patterns in the dead girls, other than their profession, look no further than how they look." Branson waved a hand, "I'll be around Detective."

John waved him off, barely noticing Branson's departure as he shifted the photographs. He held the three already developed next to one another, closing his eyes a moment to remember the fourth girl. When the recognition struck him John dropped the photographs and collapsed into a chair.

* * *

John entered the morgue where he saw Anna watching closely as Moseley peeled the skin away from the skull. John made a face but walked over to them, "Is this how you start your post-mortem forensics?"

"Hello Detective," Anna smiled at him, "Doctor Moseley here was just demonstrating his new method for revealing the skull without damage to the face."

"I think we've very different definitions of damage."

"This leaves it intact," Moseley held up the face and John stepped away, "I hide the stitches I use to patch it back on with hair and some good paints."

"Paints?"

"Holds to the dead flesh better." Moseley set the peeled skin to the side, pointing to something on the now exposed skull, "Though I don't think there was any real trauma to the face. Bones unbroken except at the neck as we already knew."

"Possibly a desire to keep the identity intact." Anna mused, "Even in the fantasy the face represents the subject of the fantasy and they wouldn't want to damage that."

"Yes," John risked a look at Anna, shivering before addressing Moseley, "Could I have a moment alone with Doctor Smith?"

"Of course." Moseley pointed to the corner, "I have some other measurements I need to take for the comparison."

"Thank you." John led Anna to the corner, the latter stepping around the table to join him.

She put a hand on her hip and held the other out toward him, "Yes?"

John flexed his jaw a moment, searching for words. "I'm not sure how to say what I need to tell you."

"As bluntly as possible. I can handle it."

"It was something Inspector Carson noted at the scene this morning and something Mr. Branson and Mr. Talbot noticed later. I only just put it together myself after the meeting."

"What?"

"I don't want to alarm you-"

"The only alarm I'm feeling, at this moment Detective, is that you won't tell me what's so obviously stuck a bee in your bonnet."

John gathered his breath, "Has it come to your attention that these four women bear a remarkable resemblance to you?"

Anna paused, looking over at the four women on the tables before back at John. "I hadn't considered it. I've only just begun comparing them to one another."

"So, at the risk of insulting your considerable intelligence, you haven't seen yourself in any of these women?"

"You might be interested to know, Detective, that there are quite a few women of shorter stature with blonde hair that live in this city. Many emaciated by poor nutrition and disease. The striking similarities between these women can be explained by their similar diets, lifestyles, and occupations."

"But it's what they women represent that-"

"I know what they represent. They're fantasies." Anna pointed to the women, "Those women weren't real to our killer and now they're dead because the killer wanted to kill the fantasy. They were dolls to be used and discarded at the end of playtime."

"Mr. Talbot thinks differently."

"What'd Mr. Talbot say?"

"He suggested that the positioning of the first three bodies was with great care. Someone putting the focus of their fantasy to sleep. Giving them a merciful rest, as it were."

Anna pursed her lips, brow furrowed in thought before she started to nod slowly, "It fits with our idea that this killer wants control over the victims."

"What if it's control over another woman?" John lowered his voice, "What if this killer wants control over you?"

"How so?"

"You work with the criminally insane and mentally deficient. Am I too bold in asking if it's possible that one of your former patients, or perhaps a disgruntled former perspective patient, or even someone you are about to make your patient is behind these murders?"

"None of my patients demonstrated a psycho-sexual need or sexual repression so the rape factor eliminates them without prejudice." Anna stared into the distance, as if tallying off those she cared for in her head, "And I've only treated children at the institute for the last two years."

"Before that?"

"I saw those patients in asylums and I still do visits to houses for the insane." Anna narrowed her eyes, trying to sharpen her thoughts, and then shook her head, "The thought process is sound, if we assume that whoever is responsible for these killings holds a grudge or a fantasy about me in particular, but none of my patients, current or former, could be responsible for this."

"You're sure? You're not protecting someone you think you can cure?"

"Mental struggles are not cured, just managed, Detective. And I wouldn't protect any of them if for a moment I thought them capable of such brutality."

"I didn't think you would but I need to be as certain as you are."

Anna rolled her neck, "I work with those whose grip on sanity is tenuous at the best of times and nonexistent at the worst. Though some of the older children I treat could have the strength for this none of them have the means or the motive. They're all being treated for traumas or other ailments. None of those revolve around dominance or control."

"And none of the current asylum patients?"

"They're all behind bars, John."

"If they got out-"

"I'd be alerted almost as immediately as anyone else." Anna shook her head again, "But, as I said, they couldn't have done this. The man or woman who did this is methodical, calculating, and patient. Excepting last night's moment of rage, all these kills are planned. Even considering last night the pattern is the same."

"What's the significance?"

"If it were someone I'm called to treat then these women would be in pieces, torn to shreds, eaten even. This work is too organized. If one of my patients did this they would be rabid in the kill."

"Then the killer exhibits too much control to be a patient of yours?"

"The man or woman, though the possibly of it being a woman dwindles the more I discover about the sexual assaults on these women, is the epitome of control. From the selection of the fantasy, to the control over her body, to the control over her life, to the control over the scene."

"Laying her to merciful rest?"

"Yes."

John scoffed, "What is the day coming to when we believe someone who goes around slitting women's throats after choking them to death is in full control of their faculties?"

"I believe the problem is that their control is slipping." Anna turned back toward the bodies, "As I mentioned before, insanity is different to all. Whoever did this is still in possession of enough of the mind to give care and attention to the details of these killings. They've justified this action to their rational mind in a logical way, twisted and dark as that logic would have to be."

"Would an insane man not need logic?"

"We all need logic. It's the leaps one has to take to connect logical thought that alter when the mind breaks. This killer still thinks more like us than an animal."

"Then the controlled violence, as opposed to wild violence, suggests that we're right."

"About?"

John sighed, "Our killer blends into society and society doesn't even blink. He seems like everyone else to everyone else. Even these women thought he was no more different than anyone else they serviced in a dark alley until the moment his hands were about their necks."

"A snake in the grass?"

"No," John shook his head, "A snake strikes the target without mercy and efficiently. We're looking for a demented man serially raping and murdering these women in effigy of you."

"That's a postulation, John."

"It's the truth."

"How'd you know? Detective's intuition?"

"Because I'm already possessive of you and I've known you one day and still claim full mastery of my faculties." John pointed to the bodies, "This man knows you somehow, or thinks he does, and uses these women to vent his frustrations. That's not a snake, that's a coward."

"Then I think we need to get back to work to catch our coward and end his reign of terror." Anna stopped, studying John as he tried to yawn with his mouth closed. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Not since the night before last," John tried to smile at her but she pushed him toward the door. "What are you doing?"

"Sending you for rest. You're no good to me or anyone else if you fall asleep standing up." Anna opened the door and forced John out of it, "If Doctor Moseley and I find anything we'll bring the information to the precinct."

"As long as you're sure."

"I am." Anna went to shut the door, "Sleep well John."


	7. Of Your Teeming Shores

Banging jolted John from sleep. He rolled from bed, grabbing for his gun, and stalked to the door. The banging on the other side did not relent and he pulled the knob while cocking the weapon. Branson, standing on the other side, raised his hands but Anna pushed past him into John's flat.

"Really, Detective, I think the killer would have more sense than to alert you to his presence." She pulled her gloves free of her fingers, tossing them on the table, before removing her coat to hang on the back of the chair she commandeered. "In fact, I think I've rather come over to your theory."

"My theory?" John waved Branson through the door and replaced the lever on the gun.

"About the victims bearing a remarkable resemblance to me." Anna spread the photos on John's table and stepped back, "Their differing visages aside they all have roughly the same height- within an inch or two of one another- blonde hair, blue eyes, and each traces their origins back to the block occupied by the Abbey."

"None of my contacts in the area have spotted anything unusual around, just the same posh people picking up their prostitutes." Branson flipped his chair so he leaned over the back of it. John raised an eyebrow at him before taking the only available seat left at the table.

"Is it normal, in that neighborhood, to take the prostitute away from the house?"

"There are some that want a place they don't risk bed bugs or rats but most stay in. Keeps their exact activities a little harder to track. All those white ties and hats blending in with one another." Branson tapped at the picture of Emilia. "This girl though, I've got a someone willing to talk about the man that took her that night."

"She only had one?"

"One that Ethel remembers." Anna smiled at John, resting her chin on her interlaced fingers, "Mr. Branson and I paid for her time and she told us that the man who engaged Emilia's services, at least the last time anyone at the Abbey can claim to have seen Ms. Emilia, was about Branson's height and wearing very expensive clothing."

"Not much to go on." John stretched, working a kink from his back.

"But it does tell us that we are looking for a man."

"Then we ruled out the possibility that he took Emilia, or any of the other girls, after someone else finished?" Branson shrugged, "It's not something you mentioned thinking about but what if he found them after someone else did?"

"He would've had to track both the girl and her mark, wait for them to finish, and then pull her away into an alley." John shook his head, "The chances of that scenario are unlikely."

"As we've mentioned, this killer is all about control. Leaving it to the last minute to nab her off someone else is too risky." Anna turned to Branson, "Mr. Branson, why are you here?"

"I came to tell the Detective that a great opportunity to see Mr. Carlisle and his associate in action will be tonight." Branson stood, pulling at his lapels, "Mr. Gregson's assigned me to cover the little fete the Blakes are throwing. I know from experience that Carlisle never misses a chance to rub shoulders with the Four Hundred Club."

"Why would I want to confront Mr. Carlisle on his playing field when I almost lost to him on mine?" John stood, "I've no interest in attending a society function just to scope out my target in an environment favorable to him. It goes against all the rules of hunting."

"It would give you a chance to see the environment our killer has to manage." Anna stared into the distance, as if running a series of scenarios in her head. "If our killer has the money to pay for these prostitutes yet still has to keep his mask on tight then there's a good chance he'll attend tonight."

"You want to tip your hand?"

"No," Anna shook her head, "I think it's in our favor to sense what he wants to escape so badly."

"What?" Branson made a face but John hushed him.

"You think if we understand what he's hiding from we'll understand who is hiding?"

"It never hurt to study the culture that brought the putrescence to life." Anna stood, "And I have to attend anyway."

"You're a member of the Four Hundred Club?" Branson could hardly contain his surprise.

"No, Mr. Branson. I'm a constant guest of the Crawleys, as you should know, and that always earns me an invitation. Though it might surprise you to learn I happen to rub shoulders with these people on a regular basis," Anna smirked, "Albeit not in any capacity they'd admit to on a dance floor."

"That's all well and good for the two of you," John gestured between Branson and Anna, "But I've neither been invited nor made a reputation enough for myself to make my presence there anything but obvious about my intentions. It'd tip the hand of our killer."

"Not if you came as my escort." Anna held out her hand, "What do you say Detective?"

John sighed, "I just hope I have a tuxedo."

"And a mask." Branson mumbled.

"What?"

"It's a masquerade." Branson cringed, "I hope you don't mind."

"Seems like I'm not in a place to mind." John pinched the bridge of his nose, "I'll make do."

* * *

John climbed into Anna's carriage, pulling the door shut as the driver snapped the reins. He turned to look at her and gawked a moment. She narrowed her eyes at him through her blue mask.

"Are you alright Detective?"

"I-" He cleared his throat, "I'm afraid it's been some time since I was in the company of a woman who looked as beautiful as you do tonight."

"With compliments like that I'm surprised that's the case." Anna pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "But I take your compliment and raise you one. I'm amazed you look as refreshed as you do."

"Not sure if that is a compliment but I only need a few hours of sleep to rejuvenate." John smiled, "I do fear that now my body is made for night work and actually rising with the sun will be harder than before."

"I guess we would have to see if we can find something to do until the sun comes up. If you've the stamina for it that is." Anna ran her tongue over the bottom of her teeth and John had to shift in place to decrease the pressure. Anna cast her eyes down toward his lap and smiled, "I take that as a compliment as well, Detective."

"Perhaps tonight you should address me as 'Mr. Bates' or 'John'." He pulled the cape on his tuxedo, huffing at it, "This thing is a damned nuisance."

"Then let us both hope you're not running anywhere in it." Anna looked out the window, "And I agree, it's in our best interest that no one knows who you are."

"Other than yourself, Mr. Branson, and Chief Crawley I don't think anyone will. And others who might won't dare admit it in a crowd like that."

"I guess it depends on how daring Carlisle feels in a room full of people he's trying to impress." Anna laughed to herself, "That man was a newspaper magnate in London and left because he was fighting established families and society for fame."

"One would've thought that coming to America would solve the problem of feeling like an outcast as the nouveau riche."

"Except America, if anything, is more prejudiced to that." Anna shook her head, "Try and explain that and you'll have me beat Mr. Bates."

"It's all posturing." John tugged at his bowtie, "Everyone trying to pretend they have any idea what they're doing and with so many self-made individuals Carlisle's not special here. He's trying to break into an elite club that likes being elite. Where once he was too much on the outside to understand now he's too much like them for him to be interesting at all."

"So he becomes a developer and decides that a rash of dead prostitutes is the best way to keep an immigrant population in line?"

"People who created their power on the backs of others want nothing taking that from them." John scoffed, "People like Carlisle want to keep others down and will fight tooth and claw to scratch out a place at the top only built to seat one."

"You're not a capitalist then?"

"I'm as capitalist as any American immigrant who grew up in the slums. I believe there are those, like Chief Crawley, who believe in the old term of noblesse oblige but the majority now protect what they have because their father or grandfather pulled himself upright by his bootstraps and finds social aid an affront to the self-made image." John paused, "An American, to them, is only as American as they're willing to fight for it."

"And you fight for it?"

"I fight for the people who want it." John leaned back, "I never wanted wealth or riches like that. Those are just problems wrapped like solutions."

"Then what does a Detective, formerly from Five Points, want from the world?"

"Trying to pull off my mask, Doctor?"

"In a metaphorical sense, yes," Anna leaned forward on her knees, "Though I do appreciate your traditional black mask."

"I look rather plain compared to your fairy decorations." John leaned forward as well, putting his face close to hers, "It brings out your eyes."

"I always liked midnight blue." Anna brought a finger to his cheek, running the back of it down his face, "You didn't answer my question, John."

"I want peace."

"Meaning what?"

"A woman who loves me like I love her. Children to run around a garden or a park with. A job I'm proud of and work that brings others safety."

"That's a tall order."

"You asked." John held up a finger, running it around the line of her mask, "You didn't say I had to be realistic."

"You're right," Anna sat back, "I didn't."

"If we're in the process of pulling off masks," John pointed at Anna, "Who was the man you stabbed when you were nine?"

"What?"

"When we were last in the process of trying to better understand one another, at the restaurant, you mentioned that the man you're trying to prove wrong received a leg injury when you stabbed him at the age of nine."

Anna rolled her shoulders back, "I don't know if this question is comparable to what I asked you."

"You didn't explain the rules."

"Point taken," Anna gathered her breath and for a brief moment John was distracted by the rise of her chest, pushed out slightly by the corset of the dress she wore and the way it barely came up far enough to cover the top of her breasts. "He was my stepfather."

"He attacked you then."

"You don't think me mad enough to stab him without provocation?"

John shrugged, "In all your diagnoses so far you present a calm and calculated demeanor. If you were hiding murderous tendencies underneath all your professionalism I might wonder if you're killing these women to kill that part of yourself."

"Impressive observation Mr. Bates." Anna smiled, "You might have a chance to fulfill your true calling if you leave detective work and come work for me."

"You wouldn't be happy with me working for you."

"Because I could be a murderer?"

"Because I'm difficult." John waved a hand at her, "As to the murder charge, I already ruled you out as a suspect when the fourth body came to the attention of the police while I was in your company."

"What about an accomplice?"

"No," John shook his head, "It was you who said our killer is searching for control. An accomplice takes both the control and the pleasure from the experience. Our killer trusts no one but themselves."

"Since I trust you I guess that eliminates me twice over?"

"You're also not a man."

"A fact I'm sure you appreciate." Anna grinned as John struggled to find some way to respond. "I noticed you staring at my dress."

"It's a beautiful dress."

"Underneath is beautiful too."

John's mouth went dry, "Excuse me?"

"In case you were wondering," The carriage pulled to a halt, "Underneath is beautiful too."

She exited the carriage, thanking the driver, as John heaved in breaths to regain control over his body. Satisfied he could move without embarrassing himself, John followed Anna to the pavement outside a large manor house. He shook his head at it and the line of people trailing from the carriages to enter.

"What does anyone need with this kind of ridiculous space?"

"It's all about what we're used to, John." Anna slipped her hand in the crook of his arm, "You're used to a small flat that provides your most basic needs. That's all you need because you're a man of simple tastes. I'm used to working my way up and down flights of stairs before I tuck into bed because I like being surrounded by my things but I also like space to live. They're used to grandeur on a scale that requires they always prove how grand they all are because they've been taught that's how you live when you're them."

"It's a waste."

"It's a different perspective and a different life." Anna laughed, pulling him toward the door, "Don't begrudge them their frivolities."

"Shouldn't I when there are starving children in Five Points?"

"Who do you think funds the children asylums or orphanages?" Anna stopped, "Who do you think pays for public work projects or for food lines or for the institutions that will help those people find jobs?"

John hung his head as Anna continued, "The operation of their house and grounds provides jobs. Their investments build schools, roadways, and businesses. These people are not all evil moneygrubbing capitalists seeking to tread over the poor. They feel a responsibility for the people around them but, at the end of the day, there is only so much they can do."

"You're sure?"

"We do what we can and we give where we can." Anna pointed to the door, "Though I believe the party is inside."

John guided them to one of the lines. Anna grabbed the corner of her midnight dress and John gathered his voice, "What are you supposed to be, exactly?"

"Has your idea of fairy already faded?" Her grin flashed at him and John almost missed a step on the stone stairs.

"I just thought you would choose something a little more traditional."

"I'm a swan, Mr. Bates."

"I thought swans were white?"

"In a traditional sense, yes." Anna untied her shawl and handed it to the same man who took John's cape and hat. "But I like the color blue and decided my swan did as well. I'm a cerulean swan, as it were."

"I'd hazard that color is more of a midnight blue than a cerulean."

"The Midnight Swan then."

"The Midnight Swan?" John shrugged, "Sounds like a book."

"Or a piece of music."

"Or even an evening club." John turned as a dark haired woman, escorted by a blonde man wearing a white mask to match hers, came behind them. "I would wile away a few hours in a place with a name like that."

"You'd wile away hours in any place that served enough drinks." Anna leaned forward and the women kissed one another's cheeks, "How are you Mary?"

"Well enough. I finished the books in regards to the asylum this afternoon and I'm proud to say we'll be solvent for the rest of this year."

"They all paid on time?"

"It helps the city has grants for this sort of thing now," Mary waved a hand and then extended it toward John. "Mary Crawley, I apologize Anna here was too distracted to introduce us."

"John Bates and it's no trouble."

"You're the one who started talking about the books." Anna huffed and then missed the man's cheek, "How are you Matthew?"

"Busy. Investing so soon after the crisis has driven a lot of people to believe their mattress is the safest place for their money." Matthew reached around Mary to shake John's hand, "Matthew Crawley."

"I assume Mary's your wife then?" John pointed between the two and Matthew grimaced.

"It's more that I'm Mary's husband at these sorts of things."

"Well tonight I'm Doctor Smith's escort, so I guess we serve as we can."

"If you're calling her 'Doctor' you must not've known her long." Mary urged them down the stairs as others entered.

"Three days."

"Then welcome to your first social experience on her arm, Mr. Bates." Mary shook his hand, "I hope you enjoy the evening."

"With Doctor Smith for company I'm not sure how I couldn't." John waited for them to leave before bending down to Anna, "Crisis?"

"Two years ago the whole world went under financially. They called it a Great Depression."

"I worked in Five Points, we were already in a depression."

"Well, it wasn't something the rich of this community like to talk about since they lost an awful lot of money in it. Mary and Matthew kept the Crawleys afloat and most of the people in this room."

"All by themselves?"

"Amazing people." Anna pointed to the far side of the room, "I believe they want us for dinner."

"I thought this was a costume party."

"The Blakes always serve food at these functions. Keeps people from drinking too much of their expensive wine." Anna eyed the guests, "Though the usual group that tends to drain the cellars are absent."

"What did Mr. Crawley mean when he said at these affairs he's Mary's husband?"

"Mary is Chief Crawley's daughter."

"Yes."

"Since the Crawleys are a society family these families are Mary's friends. She grew up with Charles Blake, our host, and even courted him for a time. Everyone thought they'd be married after she and Tony Gillingham broke it off but then she met Matthew when he started working at her financial institution."

"Matthew worked for her?"

"Matthew's a distant cousin who came from Manchester on temporary assignment. They worked together and Mary immediately broke off with Charles Blake to pursue Matthew." Anna found their seats and John pulled hers out so she could sit, "They're made for one another."

"Love at first sight?" John took his seat.

"No," Anna shook her head, "They fought like cats and dogs for three years before she finally admitted she loved him."

"Sounds difficult."

"It is when you have to admit you can't go it alone anymore. But they belong together."

"How so? Are they made for one another?"

"More that they're complimentary. Mary can be ruthless in business and always determined to get her way while Matthew rubs her hard edges smooth. She's brilliant and he's a diplomat."

"Perfect match then." John read his name card, "'Guest of Doctor Smith'?"

"They wrote 'Doctor' this time?" Anna pulled at the card to look and smiled, "Fantastic. They almost always forget."

John chuckled, "You're very protective of your title."

"You would be too if you fought tooth and nail for it." Anna turned to him, "Seen anyone yet that you think is a killer?"

"Not as yet but the night's still young."

As the rest of the guests filed into the dining room, taking their various seats, Anna pointed to those she knew by name and mentioned a few she recognized by reputation. John studied each face, committing it to memory, and finally stopped on a man with a long face, gray hair, and slightly bugged out eyes even in the bright green mask covering the rest of his face. He pointed to him and leaned over to Anna.

"Do you recognize him?"

She set down her glass and followed the direction of John's finger, hidden by the dishes between them and those across from them at the table. Squinting in her mask she snorted, "Bricker."

"Who?"

"Simon Bricker. He's an art historian and collector. He helps plan events at the Museums and uses it as a n excuse to go into large houses by claiming he might have a place in an exhibit for 'special' pieces in their collection."

"You sound unimpressed."

"He once caused a touch of discord between Chief Crawley and his wife, Cora, when he made inappropriate advances on her."

"He wouldn't."

"Mr. Bricker's not exactly the finest of society." Anna chewed a moment, "Do you remember how I mentioned Carlisle being on the edge trying to claw his way to acceptance."

"Mr. Bricker's the same?"

"No," Anna tried to hide her laugh in her napkin, "He skulks at the edges like the unwanted child on the playground. While Carlisle might have skill and charm Bricker has none of that."

"Might explain why he'd kill prostitutes." John shrugged, "Take control over a part of his life that is otherwise denied him."

"I would've thought his proclivities would be towards brunettes then," Anna pointed down the table, "After Chief Crawley drove him from their house he might've even taken to attacking men."

"No," John shook his head, "Look at the man. He's too small. He'd never stand a chance with a man his own build and perhaps not even a more buxom woman. He'd be looking for smaller people to bully."

"You may have a point there," Anna sucked at her teeth, "I had my eyes on Senator Crowborough."

"That man's too much in the public eye." John gestured to where a dark haired man held deep conversation with Carlisle.

"It'd explain why Carlisle got involved. They seem very close." Anna sipped at her drink and John turned to speak in her ear.

"I think they're close for a different reason."

"Both of them have wives, John."

"Many men have wives, it doesn't mean they don't like other things. Do you know how many married men I found rutting other men?" John raised an eyebrow but Anna shook her head.

"Even if it is true, Carlisle's too straight an arrow for him. If anything he's asexual and only has a wife to keep control."

"What about Thomas?"

"Seems dandy enough."

"If Mr. Branson is right then Thomas could set a room on fire."

"Oh I've no doubt Thomas is gayer than my Easter dress but I don't think Crowborough, even if he is, would flaunt it quite like Thomas."

"Maybe not. But he has the means."

"It's worth investigating."

"What's worth investigating?" Anna and John turned to the man seated at Anna's left.

"We're discussing possible reasons for domestic violence, Doctor Green." Anna shifted in her seat to allow Green's arm to snake past her for John to shake. "John this is Doctor Green, resident alienist at Bellevue Hospital. Doctor Green this is my escort, John Bates."

"I didn't think Bellevue had a lunatic asylum." John took Green's hand and bit down on his back teeth when Green squeezed a little too hard for a firm handshake.

"Technically they still don't but most don't want to visit an asylum if they just want to make sure their head's screwed on straight." Green smiled at John but he suppressed a shudder.

"Right," John took his hand back, "And I supposed you do a lot of consultations then?"

"Mostly husbands who want to commit their wives so they can marry younger women, unfortunately." Green drained half his glass in one go and held it up for the server to bring more. "I don't usually deal with those battling their demons like Ms. Smith here does."

"Too difficult for you?" John watched Green's face twitch, "I imagine it'd be uncomfortable in your expensive suits to have to bend down the level of the downtrodden."

"I don't think I know what you do, Mr. Bates, but I suspect you spend a lot of time with the downtrodden and you might even feel like one of them. All that bending over you must do to scrape to those above you." Green leaned on his chair, "This must be an awkward assembly for one of your background."

"My background?"

"I can hear the Five Points in your voice." Green snorted, "Are you here as Ms. Smith's charity case?"

"It's 'Doctor' Smith, as I always remind you Doctor Green, and no," Anna smiled at John, "He's here as my guest."

"Then you're a reforming patient." Green settled more comfortably in his chair, "I applaud whatever techniques Anna here used to housebreak you again. Or should I worry that if I say the wrong word you'll start tearing up the napkins and foam at the mouth?"

"Not to worry on that account," John put a hand on his fork, bringing it up to scrape along his knife, "I tend to vent my anger with other objects. Usually a rash of violent behavior before I settle into a catatonic state."

"Really?" Green raised an eyebrow and John had to grit his teeth to stop from smiling at the slight tremor in Green's hand.

"Oh yes," Anna put her hand on John's, tilting her head as if looking on something with a great deal of pity, "He once murdered four men in a single sitting but has no memory of it. Tragic really."

"Is that so?" Green swallowed, "Then I congratulate Anna on her work."

"It's 'Doctor Smith', Mr. Green." John set down his utensils and pushed his chair back, "And I believe she's done excellent work. If you'll excuse us."

Anna dabbed at her mouth with a napkin as John pulled her chair back, "Yes, do enjoy the fish. I believe the Blakes flew it in all the way from Alaska."

John walked Anna out of the dining room and into the ballroom. A few couples were mingling on the floor while a band set up in the corner. John tried to even his breathing and only turned when he felt Anna's hand on his shoulder.

"Something troubling you?"

"He isn't troubling you?"

"Green?" Anna looked over her shoulder behind them, "He's harmless."

"He wouldn't address you by your proper salutation."

"I'm not threatened by an immature boy who thinks himself above me because of the work I do or my gender, John. Many people don't address me by my proper salutation or did you miss the note of joy in my voice when they finally printed it on the card at the table?"

"I didn't miss it and all the more reason you deserve his respect."

"We don't always get what we deserve, John."

"No, but if you can you should."

Anna stopped, her lip turning up slightly at him, "You really don't like him do you?"

"Should I?"

"It's not a question of should." Anna stopped a waiter and grabbed a champagne flute, sipping it, "Do you want any?"

"I don't drink."

"No?"

"Not since my wife died."

"Oh," Anna brought the glass down, holding it in both of her hands, "Did you drink together often?"

"That was the only time we were together." John shook his head, "I've been to more dives in deeper holes than I ever want to see again in my life and I'd rather cut off my own hand than drink and risk reminding myself of those places."

"I respect your fervor." Anna sipped at her glass, smiling at John over the top of it. "But I'm more interested in why you don't like Green."

"I'm not allowed to just say I don't?"

"No because there's always a reason deeper than that."

John bit the inside of his cheek, shuffling in place as his face reddened a bit. "He's an ass."

"He's a brilliant ass."

"So he's allowed to continue being one?"

Anna shrugged, thanking the waiter who took her empty glass. "I think the problem is that everyone else lets him get away with being an ass so that tells him he can continue to be one and he likes being one. The common conundrum is why change anything about yourself if no one says you should."

"I could convince him otherwise."

"That won't be necessary." Anna laughed, "Though I think you almost made him soil his pants the way you held that knife. I almost believed you."

"Thank you."

"But, in future, I think we should leave our more inventive stories at the door. We don't want to frighten the poor man."

John turned to her, "I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't like his theories or how the upper class adores them so they're less inclined to actually give aid when they can because they believe there's nothing to be done when there is. I don't like how what he does damages a social system in dire need of assistance but," Anna held up a finger, "I'm not so prideful that I can't or won't acknowledge that the man is brilliant and ahead of his time."

"Really?"

"I still think he's a pompous windbag but more than that he's never shown me any disrespect."

"He called you 'Anna'."

"We're at a social event."

"It's polite to address you by your salutation until instructed otherwise. Hence our arguments at the beginning of this discussion."

"John," Anna cocked her head sideways and folded her arms, "Are you defending my honor?"

"Would you mind if I were?"

"Not at all. I rather like it." Anna beamed at him, "Though I think you could do to give Doctor Green a little more leeway."

"That's not going to happen."

"He's a snob, nothing more."

"I don't know how you're so dismissive of him."

"What threat could he pose? We're intellectual rivals, not mortal enemies."

John shook his head, "Something about him raises my hackles."

"I noticed."

"I can't even fully express why but there's something that makes my skin crawl about that man."

"Perhaps it's that he took an interest in me." Anna turned away before John could respond, "I think you need a way to dispel your pent up energy."

John sighed, "And what would the Doctor prescribe?"

"Dancing," Anna put a hand on his chest, "Don't move."

John watched Anna walk over the floor, smiling at a few people who greeted her along the way, and speak quickly with the Negro man in the orchestral corner. The man nodded, smiling with every word. A moment later the string quartet started up and Anna was back at John's side.

She held up her arms and motioned to him, "I do hope you know how to dance, John."

"It's in my skill set."

"Good." They took form as a waltz started, "I always enjoy dancing."

"When'd you learn?"

"My parents weren't wealthy but they insisted on finishing school for me." Anna followed John's lead as he steered them through the other couples. "I happened to enjoy dancing since they discouraged running."

"You don't strike me as one who followed the rules well."

"I didn't."

They worked around the room and John saw Bricker, Green, Carlisle, and Crowborough leave the dining room, joining the dancing with various partners. "I don't suppose you've decided who's the most likely."

"I can't say I've seen anyone who set off my warning bells but I agreed with your assessment on Bricker. He bears a deeper investigation."

"Except for the blonde hair."

"Except that." Anna conceded and sucked in when John quickly pulled her to him to avoid a couple dancing a little less surely on their feet.

"Have you considered the initial trigger?"

"You mean have I considered what might've caused this killer's twisted logic to believe I'm the subject of their interest?"

John tried to look at Anna's face but she kept her head in position, looking just over his right shoulder. "No, I mean what event we should consider as the starting point of this violence."

"The first killing was a month ago. Then the next two were once a week for the following two weeks until the fourth just two days later, breaking the cycle."

"Exactly," John maneuvered them around the floor, "Something happened a month ago to start this."

"Then you've ruled out the possibility he's done this before elsewhere and migrated here?"

"I didn't know that was an option but I'm inclined to immediately dismiss it. It takes time to integrate into a new city and someone like that would've attracted more attention, especially if they're someone who belongs in this room right now. We're looking for someone who sinks into the background without a second thought. This city's their home."

"Then a month ago he escalated again."

"Again?"

"He moved from rape to murder." Anna risked a look at him, "No one just starts at murder unless it's a crime of passion and we ruled that out already. My research has tracked that even children express their first violent tendencies in control over younger children, abuse of younger children and animals, or even violently killing animals. Some even skin them alive. There's a pattern of violence to this like any addiction. Whatever man murders prostitutes now began by raping them before."

"Unfortunately for the prostitutes involved they wouldn't report it because no one would believe them and even if someone did no one would care."

"The tragedy of the flesh trade."

"One of them."

"What's your theory?"

"About?" John raised an eyebrow, pulling Anna to the edge of the dancing couples.

"The matter of escalation."

"If we're talking about you I guess the question is what did you do a month ago." John paused, "What changed in your life that would give him a reason to kill a version of you now outside his control?"

"I started working for Chief Crawley."

"Before the murders?"

"Yes."

"So why would that set our killer off?"

"That's the million dollar question, Detective. If I'm even the target at all. It could just be coincidence."

"Not likely."

"We're keeping an open mind." Anna pressed on his arm, "Back to dancing John, before we attract too much attention."

They took to the floor, weaving between the couples and almost brushed with Green. He smiled at him and moved his brunette companion away from them. John shuddered, "I don't like him."

"You made that clear."

"It's more than that."

"What?"

John shrugged, "It's like the man has two faces."

"You think he's hiding something?"

"No… well yes… it's," John struggled, frowning, "It's like he has two faces because he needs to have two faces."

"We've all got two faces John."

"What's your other face Doctor?"

"The one that'd like to invite you to her home so she can show you her bedroom." John was grateful the music stopped because his whole focus was on Anna. She smiled at him, shrugging, "I wasn't jesting when I mentioned that under my dress is beautiful as well, John. I want you to see it for yourself."

"Anna I-" John risked a scan of the room, "I wouldn't want to put your reputation in any danger."

"And for that I couldn't be more grateful but John," Anna stepped closer, running a hand down his jacket, "I'm an alienist that runs an institute for children and women believed insane. I work for the police department as a consultant. There's not much left of my reputation as a woman in this room."

John brought her gloved hand to his lips, "Then I'm at your service."

"Good." Anna pulled away, "I'm going to thank our hosts and fake a headache so we can leave."

John watched her go before making for the stairs. On the way there Green stepped in his path. John stopped, eyeing the man from head to toe before smiling. "Mr. Green, what a pleasure."

"It's Doctor."

"My mistake. I guess I thought since you addressed Doctor Smith so informally you didn't hold to titles and salutations."

"What's your relationship with Anna?"

"Any relationship I have with Doctor Smith is none of your business." John lowered his voice, "Though I'd suggest you keep your relationship with her as professional as possible."

"Afraid, Mr. Bates?"

"Not of you." John turned to Anna, "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"It's just a headache. I'm sure once I rest it'll be alright." Anna nodded her head to Green, "Enjoy the rest of your evening Doctor Green."

"I will." He sneered at both of them before disappearing back into the crowd.

John took Anna's hand, smiling at her, "Are you sure?"

"I've been sure of not much else this whole evening, John." She put her mouth near his ear, "I'd like you to make me yours now."

John could not leave the room fast enough.


	8. Send These

The moment they were inside the carriage John could only catch up as Anna practically attacked him. One of her hands held the back of his neck and the other knocked his hat from his head to the seat beside them as she straddled his legs. His hands found purchase at her waist and held there as she kissed him.

For all the kisses John has ever experienced, this was by far his favorite. She applied just the right amount of pressure, slanting over his mouth before running her tongue over his bottom lip. He opened in surprise and she pressed her advantage. With sweeping strokes she held him in her thrall and it was all John could do not to sink into the seat beneath him and just surrender to her.

His body responded and even through the layers of her dress John could feel the trickle of heat gathering between her legs. Moving one had to the back of her neck, John maneuvered his other hand down to the line of her dress. It caught a bit on her bustle in the back but he managed a hand on her leg. Sliding under the edge of her bloomer he gripped her thigh and Anna gasped.

Pulling away from the kiss John was sure he never saw a more beautiful sight than Anna, with her lips swelling and her eyes blow wide, staring back at him. She grinned at him, running her tongue over her lips when she slipped a hand between them and cupped where he stood at proud attention. John bucked in her grip and brought her mouth back to his as their hands raced to bring the other to the edge of sanity.

John groaned as Anna's hand worked him while her body ground down on his fingers ghosting over her center. He ran one finger down the length of her, pushing her bloomers up just slightly so the fabric rasped against her sensitive skin. Her hand paused and John did it again, watching her as her head went back to show him the line of her neck. The way her lungs panted for air pushed her breasts against the confines of her corset and John dipped his head to kiss over any and all of her exposed skin, from her breasts to her chin over her neck and back.

Her hands retreated, threading to the back of his head, and pressed him to her. The jolting of the carriage on a turn sent John's fingers farther inside of her and Anna cried out. John kissed up to her jaw, moving to whisper in her ear as his fingers delved deeper to curl between her folds.

"Let go Anna."

"I want to." The words barely escaped her mouth as John nipped at her neck, barely conscious of how her nails gouged the skin at the back of his neck.

"Then do it Anna. There's no one to hear but me." John pulled back just enough to see her face as he worked his three fingers as deep as they could go inside her. "Let me hear you."

Her head went back, the little light from the moon available through the shades on the carriage window, glinting off the sequins of her mask to send pinpricks of light about them, and Anna called out his name. John countered the muscles clenching at him where she felt warmest and he slipped out slowly, massaging her down from her high.

Their eyes met, Anna still breathing raggedly and sweat dotting over her skin. She pulled John to her, sucking at his mouth a moment before breaking her hold on him, and kept him close. He smiled, bringing his hand out from under her skirts as the carriage stopped.

"I think we reached your home, Doctor." John breathed before kissing her lips again. He made sure she watched as he took his fingers into his mouth, sucking each one slowly before pulling them free with a pop. If it was possible, Anna's pupils dilated even more and she threw the door to the carriage open.

John smiled to himself, finding his hat and ducking out after her. He nodded to the driver and followed Anna up the steps to her door. They stood there a moment, John just staring down at her, before she spoke.

"The last time we were here I wanted very much to invite you inside."

"I would've said no."

Anna drew closer to him, running a finger down the buttons of his shirt, "And now?"

"I can't possibly refuse."

"Good." Anna pulled a key from her small handbag and opened the door. "Follow me then John."

The interior of the house was dark. John stayed near the door, not wanting to risk running into anything or breaking something trying to find his way through the gloom. A match struck in front of him and John watched Anna pull the bulb off a lamp to light it, raising the wick to cast more light about them.

With the hallway now aglow, John doffed his hat and cape, draping both over the standing post near the door. As he turned back to Anna she gripped his hand and pulled him up a set of stairs immediately before them. John obediently followed.

They wrapped up to the second floor and Anna walked the length of the house again to push open another door. John waited a moment, watching the light glow within, before following. At the threshold he paused, taking in the room.

A large bed took up most of the space, in the corner a fireplace now crackled to life as Anna shook out a match, and an ornate desk occupied space by the window. John crossed the invisible line and breathed deeply.

There was a scent here, one he associated with Anna but different somehow. It was almost as if this was what she smelled like when she was freed of burdens and cares. This was her sanctuary and John shivered when he realized she brought him to it so he could share it with her.

He was so lost in his moment of contemplation that it took Anna calling his name to catch his attention again. Hi eyes found her, standing between the fire and the bed. She held a hand out to him, "Would you care to join me?"

He crossed the distance and bent as her hands cupped his cheeks. She pulled his mouth to hers and John set to work. His fingers found the tie of her shawl and he dropped it from her shoulders while she set to work pulling the tie from his neck. Smoothing up her back he loosed the buttons of her midnight dress until all she had to do was shake her arms so it could drip to the ground.

His jacket hit the floor and his waistcoat followed, both thumping rather more pronouncedly than Anna's thinner clothing. Her hands at his chest, unfastening the buttons there, pushed him back toward the bed. When his knees hit he sat down, pulling Anna by the back of her legs between his spread ones, and kissed at the exposed skin of her chest while his hands loosened the laces of her corset. Sliding back around, as Anna ran her hands to his wrists to work his cufflinks free, John managed the latchets of her corset and it fell to the floor when Anna drew his shirt from his shoulders.

Neither of them spoke. John knew if he did the moment would be ruined. Here, in her domain, with only the fire for light, it was all John could do not to forget the woman in the mask before him was human and not a fairy queen as he originally postulated in the carriage.

He froze when their eyes met and Anna bent at the waist to run her lips under his jaw. Her hands slipped to his waist and she unbuttoned him, drawing the tails of his undershirt from their confines in his trousers, to tug it over his head. Now that his chest was exposed to her, Anna pressed on John's shoulders, sending him lying back on a bed that enveloped him like he imagined a cloud might.

Her hands worked down his legs, slipping the laces loose on his shoes, unlatching the garters holding his socks high up his calf, and rolling the socks down one at a time. He shivered under her touch when she grasped at the edge of his trouser leg to pull them off. John only just remembered to lift his hips, too caught up in her insistence to do anything but succumb to her.

Small hands caressed up his legs, moving along the outside and just under his pants. Her fingers circled there a moment before smoothing up the outside to run the same digits along the band holding his pants securely to his waist. John risked a look at Anna, afraid the sight of his pants tented to almost embarrassing proportions might put her off, but only saw a mischievous grin.

The cerulean eyes that met his, the sparking orbs only just visible through her midnight mask, flashed in time with her smile as her kissed him through his pants. John moaned and felt the fabric run over him, sending his already overly sensitive member vibrating with energy. His hands tangled in her duvet as Anna worked the pants off his legs and then took him in a firm grip.

He bucked into her caresses, moaning for the touches that felt at once heavenly and torturous for him. His head went back, his jaw aching as his teeth gritted to keep from shouting the rooftops, and all she used as response was a tinkling laugh. John stared at her as Anna, with one hand still working him to agonizing ecstasy, dropped her remaining clothes to the floor.

The light from the fire painted her body with fire. The blue of her mask set against the golden glint of her hair still piled in intricate curls and waves atop her head drew John in like a magician's trick. He leaned up as she straddled his thighs again.

"Are you ready to be mine John?" Her voice, sounding both all around him and far away, was too pure for any more answer than the vigorous nod of his head. "I need you to speak, John."

"Yes." He croaked and watched this nymph, this goddess in her midnight mask, smile at him as she rose to her knees.

"Then I'll make you mine."

John could barely move as she positioned herself over him. With a flick of her wrist she found the right position and slid down his quivering shaft. The arch of her back and the exposed line of her neck, as her head went back to let out the most beautiful moan John ever heard, had him pumping his hips upward. Her hands came to his chest and she leered down at him from her perch.

"I think, I'm going to have my way with you and then you with me." She put a finger to her mouth before running it down the center of his chest, "I did say I wanted you to make me yours."

John's hands, trembling slightly, rested on her legs to skim up her thighs. "Is that a question?"

"Do you want to make me yours John?"

"Yes." He drove into her, sending Anna's hands clutching at his shoulders.

She lifted herself to sink down again and John met her gyrations with thrusts of his own. The sounds from her throat- both high pitched and guttural- were only matched in beauty to him with the sound of their bodies meeting. He felt himself reach as far into her as he could go, the slick wetness surrounding him easing his drives while her muscles flexed to drag him in further.

John wrapped one hand securely at her waist, holding her steady as he brought his chest to meet hers. Anna wrapped her hands around his neck and he kissed over hers before moving down her body. She clung to him as he covered her breasts in kisses and drew her nipples into his mouth.

When she moaned his name John moved his hand from her back between them, running his finger along her as her cries lifted higher and higher to the heavens. John put his mouth near her ear, flicking his finger over her more insistently. "You know what to do Anna. You just let go."

With a pinch at her bundle of nerves Anna shattered in his arms. John wrapped her in his embrace and flipped them quickly to put her back to the bed. The movement drew him from her and she sighed at the sensation. John kissed her, running a hand up her side to her neck.

"I'm going to make you mine now Anna." He waited for her eyes to meet his, her mask slightly askew and her hair loosening from the rigid hold of her pins. "Will you let me?"

"Yes." Anna pulled him to her, running her tongue through his mouth before releasing. "Make me yours John."

John spread her legs, taking his hands from her waist to her backside, and lifting slightly. Her still swollen center welcomed him again and John slid home. Anna groaned and John pulled out, almost as far as he could, before driving back in. Her fingers clawed at the duvet and John grinned to himself as he watched her fall apart in his hands.

At first his thrusts were long and slow, filling her completely before pulling all the way out, but when her legs wrapped around him to pull him closer and her hands clamped on his elbows, his movements sped up to shorter strokes. His own body sobbed for release and Anna's voice seemed to speak for him as she started to peak again. But it was her hand, digging into the skin of his backside, that sent him over the edge.

He pumped once, twice, three times before finishing to the sweet sounds of Anna's third release of the evening. John drew out of her, the sweat from their exertions shining over both of them in the firelight. He managed to lay beside her but Anna immediately pulled him closer, covering his lips with hers.

Whatever energy either of them had left they gave to that kiss before breaking apart. John put a hand to his forehead and felt the material of the mask. He pulled it over his head, noting the darkness of his sweat that would stain a white ridge. He laughed and turned to Anna, lifting her mask from her face to see her fully for the first time that evening.

"I have to admit," He took the masks and reached just far enough to set them on the small table beside her bed, "I've never made love to a woman wearing a mask before."

"Neither have I." Anna giggled as John laughed at her comment.

"I should hope not."

"No men either, if it makes you feel better."

"Same. No men for me." John faced her, propping himself on his elbow, "I'm glad I didn't. I think it would've robbed me of an experience."

"Me too." Anna smiled at him, "I rather enjoyed myself."

"How do I compare?"

"All others would pale, John." Anna ran a hand over his cheek, "All others pale."

"For lack of a better statement to express how I feel," John took her hand, kissing her palm, "I quite agree."

"Good." Anna lay back, taking a deep breath, "If it's not too bold to say, when we're both a little more rested, I'd like to go again."

"As would I but," John moved to pull the covers down as the chill of the outside air finally made it into their cocoon enough to send a shiver over Anna, "I think we should rest first."

"Doctor's orders?" Anna smirked at him, squealing away as he tried to find a ticklish spot.

"I'll leave the orders to you, Detective." John settled behind her as Anna curled her back to his chest.

"Then I concur."

John kissed the top of her head, "Goodnight Anna."

"The best of nights," Anna pulled his arm from her waist to between her breasts and kissed his hand. "Goodnight John."


	9. The Homeless

John opened his eyes at the deep gong of a clock he was sure he did not own. He blinked in the low light and just made out the details of the unfamiliar room as weak morning light came through the window. Taking a deep breath John felt something resting against his chest. As he scrubbed sleep from his eyes, John smiled when he saw Anna's golden hair spread on the pillow before him while her side rose and fell with her even breathing.

He went to move but Anna shifted closer. John bit back a groan as she rubbed against him and sent his already half hard member springing to life. Another caress and John thought he heard a giggle barely stifled in the pillow.

Moving a hand around Anna, John lifted himself over her to see a grin plastered on her face. He nuzzled between her chin and neck while his free hand sculpted down her body to dance his fingers over her sex. She gasped and her eyes flew open as John leaned to kiss her lips.

"I knew you were awake." John smoothed his lips up her cheek.

"I didn't want to impose."

"Didn't you?" John kissed down her neck to Anna's shoulder. "Good morning."

"I'll say." She teethed her lower lip but released it as John slid a finger inside her. "A very good morning."

"Has anyone ever woken you like this?" John shifted a leg between hers to grant him better access to her wet heat and so he could add another finger.

"I've never kept anyone long enough to find out." Her eyes closed and John kissed back up to her chin, biting lightly.

"Well then I think I owe you a singular experience, since I'm the first." John used his third finger to spread her open. "And I hope to make this the first of many similar experiences, to give you a better guide."

"Yes please." She sighed as John dragged his fingers inside her, moving ever so slowly. "If I'd known I could wake up this way I would've invited you sooner."

"Is this what you want?" John drew his fingers to the edge, dragging his fingers to the tip of her folds before slipping back in. "To have someone wake you up in the morning?"

"If you'd like the job then you're welcome to it Detective." Anna moaned as his other hand traced over her side, skimming her breasts.

"I don't know if you could manage." John kissed to the back of her neck as her hips sped up against his hand.

"I'm sure I-"

"You were saying Doctor?" John's thumb flicked and pressed at her nerves, sending her writhing against him so he had to hold her more tightly to keep his hand at speed inside her.

"I can manage."

"Can you?" He slid his hand over her breast and pinched. She shrieked and her muscles constricted about his fingers.

John rode her high to its finish, drawing out of her slowly, and slipped each of his fingers into his mouth one at a time. Anna, breathing like a winded horse, tried to move but John stopped her. He turned her head enough to kiss her again.

"John?"

"I haven't finished wishing you good morning." He moved his leg and entered her from behind.

Anna's hand found John's hip and clutched there as he thrust into her. He moved slowly, careful of her still twitching body. His arm at her hips wrapped over her, to hold her in place, while his other hand swept her neck and collarbone.

John pumped into her slowly, mimicking the work of his hand only minutes before, and put his lips to her ear, "Do you trust me, Anna?"

"Yes."

"Good." John tilted forward with his hip, using his weight to move Anna to her stomach. He stilled his movements as his hands grasped her waist to pull her onto her knees before positioning her hands to hold her upright. Once situated John rolled his hips, sending Anna hanging her head to groan. "How do you feel?"

"Full."

John drew out slowly, pulling almost all the way free before pushing back in. His hands moved up her sides and over her back. She shivered under him and met his movements with a thrust of her own. John chuckled, the vibration going through him to her, sending her hair standing on end. "What do you think Anna?"

"I don't want you to stop."

"I won't." He slid to the edge and pressed back in again.

"I mean-" John paused as Anna fought for breath.

"Anna?"

She turned over her shoulder to look at him, "Don't hold back John."

"Are you sure?"

Anna used a hand to hook around the back of his neck, dragging his lips to hers. She sucked at his lower lip before driving her tongue around the inside of his mouth. John groaned into the kiss.

When she broke away John could swear there was fire in Anna's eyes. "Don't hold back John."

John lifted himself, holding steady on his knees behind her a moment. He drew himself all the way out and stepped off the bed. When Anna whined John grabbed her hips and dragged her over the rumpled sheets and silk duvet to the edge of the bed so her toes graced the edge.

He stood behind her, running his hands from her backside all the way to her shoulders. "Are you ready Anna?"

She nodded and he drove as deeply as he could go. Anna cried out, her fingers clenching in the blankets beneath her. When he did it again her head went to the bed, panting in time with his movements.

John let his hands wander over her like a sculptor forming clay. His hips worked like a piston, moving in and out of her with all the energy he could muster, but she met him stroke for stroke. Striking deeply inside her had Anna thrusting her backside at the cradle of his hips. When he drew almost all the way out her muscles struggled to cling to every inch of him before he slammed back inside her.

It was possible that John, who lived his entire life in one of the most famous cities in the world, had never seen a more glorious sight than the one before him that morning. Anna, dappled in early spring sunlight, arching her back to better accept him inside her. Her body, though so small compared to him, had no trouble battling him for every second of pleasure he brought to both of them.

John paused a moment, enjoying the view of her impaled as deeply as he could go inside her, and traced over the globes of her backside. When Anna risked a hand between them John jumped back into action. Those fingers played at him, caressing the sack that slapped when he plunged into her.

He tried to keep a hold on his control, the work of her hands and her body fighting him for dominance, but it frayed with each attempt she made to send him shuddering with pleasure. Her scorching embrace almost trapped him like her fingers did but as her whimpers and keens told him she would break first. When Anna traded those sounds for panting breaths John let loose.

The cries from her throat rose higher, hitting soprano notes John thought might rattle the windows. He timed himself on the fluctuations of her voice to leave her sobbing into the blankets with pleasure. One of his hands, not holding her steady at her hip, covered hers to drag it back to her center. He guided her to stroke in time with the piston of his hips and sent her over the edge again.

A trickle of sweat ran over his forehead to mingle in the beads dripping down his back and chest as John withdrew from Anna. Her arms shook and John helped her lie back on the bed but pulled her along the smooth sheets to where he still stood beside it. Anna's eyes glazed slightly as John lifted her legs around his waist, holding her open to him.

Their eyes met as John buried himself inside her. Her body, humming with the second of her climaxes, shuddered about him. This only fed his fervor as he lifted at her backside to give him a better angle.

Anna's head went back, leaving her neck exposed in an arch John could not help but kiss. He licked and sucked to her breasts as he drove into her as deeply as he could go. The bite of his teeth on her breast had Anna's hands at the back of his head, holding him to her. When he dragged a nipple to his mouth her ankles locked behind him to and one of her hands dug her nails into the flesh of his backside as she tried to keep them there.

John shifted, working for a better angle, and their eyes met. He snuck a hand between them to brush over her overly sensitive nerves before tickling between her folds. Anna's eyes rolled back into her head and she crested the wave of pleasure for the third time. As she took to the wave John gave himself over to it as well. Ecstasy almost drown out exhaustion as he broke, thrusting twice more before emptying as deeply as he could in what was the closest feeling to heaven he ever imagined.

Anna's arms at his shoulder saved him as his legs finally gave way. She dragged him onto the bed with her, lying perpendicular to the headboard. John tried to move to her side but Anna clung to him despite the stickiness of their sweating bodies. Their chests, so close together, soon matched breathing and, if John was not being too romantic, the beating of their hearts.

She kissed his temple and laughed softly near his ear, "That's a record for me John. If you woke me up that way every morning I might not think mornings are so bad."

"Do you not like mornings?" John lifted his head enough to kiss her lips.

"No, I hate them." Anna beamed at him, her fingers threading through the hair at the back of his neck, "But I do believe I could love them with you."

"It was my pleasure to make your morning."

"I think it was mine… three times over." Anna grinned at him, stealing a kiss before escaping to the side. She rolled off the bed, "Unfortunately, you need to dress and get home before anyone knows where you spent the night and I need to wash so no one knows how I spent the night."

"Are you embarrassed by how we spent the evening Doctor or just that you spent it with me?" John feigned a pout, trying to make a pitiful face.

Anna laughed it off, walking the length of the room in the nude without reaching for the dressing gown John could see hanging within easy reach. "I could never be embarrassed by you. Or with how we used our time."

"Then would it matter?"

"As professionals, yes. We do have duties that, no matter our personal desires, must be done and they're best accomplished without distraction." Anna stopped by the opened door to her bedroom, "I need to wash and I would hate to waste the water on two baths so, if you wanted to join me, I wouldn't mind the company."

She winked at him before disappearing down the hall and John did not need another invitation to chase her.

* * *

John pushed open the door to his little office that doubled as the center of operations for his officers on the case and frowned. Branson sat in John's chair, studying an open notebook in front of him while chewing on the end of a pencil. He flipped a page, scowling before flipping back.

"Mr. Branson," Branson jumped, turning to see John standing there, "I don't remember scheduling a meeting with you."

"We didn't," Branson stood, his brow furrowing, "I'm sorry I didn't think you'd be in this early."

"Where else would I be?"

"Well," Branson sniggered, putting a hand over his mouth to try and hide the grin that expanded there, "I saw you leave with Doctor Smith last night and I thought you might be-"

"Might be what, Mr. Branson?" John waited as Branson's face reddened.

"I-" He cleared his throat, "Nothing, I thought nothing that would suggest any impropriety between yourself and the good doctor."

"Excellent. Now why are you here?"

"I had a few thoughts after the Blakes' party last night and thought I could run them by you."

"Thoughts?"

"Yeah, some notes I made watching some of the guests."

"I didn't see you. Where were you?"

Branson shrugged, "Sybil and I spoke a fair bit with Mr. Gregson, my boss, and then with a few others who support the work she and Doctor Clarkson do. We don't really mingle at parties like her sister Mary does but we go. It's good for Sybil's work, and mine."

"We all do what me must."

"I saw you though, I liked your mask."

John thought back to where the mask still sat, on Anna's bedside table, and how he enjoyed it more after the party. "Thank you, it was all I could find on short notice."

"Plainer is better, in my opinion." Branson flipped the page in his little notebook, "However I was thinking about what you'd said about the victims and how the Blakes' party would be the place where the killer would hide and I thought you might want to look a little closer at Senator Crowborough."

"What brings you to that conclusion?" John removed his jacket, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling his sleeves to the elbows as he took up position behind his desk.

"He's very close to Carlisle and, as you told me, Carlisle had you abducted to throw you off the scent. Crowborough's got the influence to send the message down the line he needs space. He says 'jump' and Carlisle says 'how high' and all that."

"So you think Crowborough's capable of murdering four women without anyone noticing?" John sat in his chair, holding his head with his fingers threaded together.

"Anyone's capable of murder under the right circumstances. More importantly, he's about my height, wears the right fancy dress, and happens to frequent the Abbey." Branson winked at John, "I pay attention and those were the features Ethel defined."

"There are a decent number of men from that ballroom wearing fancy clothes about your height, Mr. Branson."

"Are you dismissing my lead?"

"No," John shook his head and straightened in his chair, pulling his waistcoat to his belt, "I'm just asking you to validate your theory. I can't run off suppositions and print a retraction later like you can."

"Then you think the lead's solid?"

"It's something Doctor Smith and I discussed at the party so yes, I think you've got a good lead there."

Branson grinned, "Brilliant."

"If there's nothing else Mr. Branson-"

"Actually," Branson moved his jaw, as if trying to crack it out. "There might be but it's less than a rumor so I don't want you to think I'm sending up smoke signals or anything."

"What?"

"A few of my contacts around the Boroughs have been breathing news about The Wraith being in town."

John paused, looking up from the open file on his desk. "The Wraith?"

"Yeah."

"The Wraith hasn't been active since before the census and the scandal."

"I know, which is why I don't know how credible the information is, personally, but a few people are acting like he's back in town and these aren't the type to jump at shadows or children's ghost stories. If he's back in town then these folks'd be worried."

"We were never sure it was a man. The one boy who claimed to have seen the Wraith at work said it was too short to be a man. At least one person thought it could be a woman."

"Who knows?" Branson shrugged, "But when I heard about it yesterday afternoon I put a few feelers out and my ears to the ground said none of the bosses put a hit on anyone. They're all pretty tight in the mouth right now about it but I'm confident none of them invited the Wraith back."

"So who's the Wraith coming for?"

"That's the question but, like I said, it's barely a rumor."

"I'll keep it in mind. Thank you Mr. Branson." John shook his hand, "If you have anything on Crowborough you think could get me through the door, I'd love to chat with him."

"If I did you'd have it but he's not my greatest fan and actively tries to shut down the paper I write for."

"Why's that?"

"I did an expose on him last year but it was the opposite of flattering. He still won the election so I thought he'd be over it but I guess not everyone's so humble in victory eh?"

"Guess not."

"But I'll let you know if I find anything." Branson faked a salute, "Always a pleasure Detective."

"Likewise, Mr. Branson."

John went back to his work, sorting through the files and checking all the reports from the three officers and Inspector Carson. A knock at the door interrupted him and John lifted his head to see the man from the first day- Bertie? - standing there.

"Yes?"

"Sorry Detective Bates but," He eased into the room, shutting the door before coming to stand on the other side of John's desk. "I think I have a suggestion for you. Something that might help your investigation."

"What's that?"

"I've been working out a more sophisticated filing system and I found a registry of those arrested for work in the flesh trade."

"Oh?" John leaned forward and gestured to the empty chair.

Bertie took it quickly, holding up his hands like an invisible box was between them, and explained. "I matched the descriptions to prostitutes arrested for lewdness or indecent exposure. I found a number of women who might fit the description of either your current victims or even future victims."

"Do we know of they're still active?"

"The difficulty is some of them change precincts for work or they stop working or they just vanish so there's no way to guarantee but," Bertie held up a finger, "It'd be worth it to find them, I think."

"You might be right." John pursed his lips, staring into a corner a moment before nodding, "I want you to have William, Alfred, and James, when they make an appearance this morning, track down those names. Give them all the files and have them find out if any of those girls are still alive, still active, and willing to speak to us. If the Doctor's right about her assessment, our killer might've attacked some of them before and they never came forward."

"I'll get to it." Bertie was out of the chair and to the door in a flash, almost running into Inspector Carson as he entered the office.

"Inspector, it's a little early for you to be in isn't it?"

"Not this morning." Carson took a deep breath, "We found another one Detective."

John grabbed his jacket.

* * *

John nodded grimly at Talbot, passing in the other direction holding his camera and equipment, while Anna surveyed the body. John sighed, holding a hand to his forehead when he took in the scene. Turning to Carson he noted how pale the man was. "I think, Inspector, it's getting worse."

"I think so too Detective." Carson coughed, "I'll take Alfred to canvas."

"Send William and James back to the precinct. I have Bertie organizing files I want them managing this moment for interviews."

"Bertie?"

"Edith's husband," John snapped his fingers, "Mr. Pelican? Peddler?"

"Pelham," Anna joined them, "Edith's husband is named Mr. Pelham."

"Thank you Doctor." John turned to Carson, "Mr. Pelham thinks he might have some leads as far as home addresses and family we can contact to see what we can discover in interviews about possible attacks in the past that might give us a picture of our killer."

"I'll send them back immediately." Carson left the alley and John turned to the body lying in the alleyway.

Unlike the other four, where the throat was only slit, this girl's head was severed completely from her body. John noted the shredded clothing, hanging from her body like someone used claws to tear through them. The skin visible through the fluttering fabric mottled black and blue.

John shook his head and crouched near Anna as she examined the body. "Did Inspector Carson call you first?"

"Actually I saw the police cordon on my way to the institute this morning and stopped for a moment to ask about the body." Anna pointed just out of the alley, "It's right in my path from my home to work Detective."

John sucked the insides of his cheeks, "And that doesn't make you nervous?"

"No." Anna turned to him a moment, "Should it?"

"Someone killed this woman with such rage he cut her head off and did it within spitting distance of your house." John took a breath, "The killer could've seen us together last night."

"You think someone's watching us?"

"Thomas was."

"He's not anymore." Anna rested her arms on her knees, balancing on the balls of her feet in a crouched position to match his. "Carlisle delivered his message."

"But what if we only saw Thomas. What if someone else is watching?"

"You think this murder is on our heads?"

"No," John lowered his voice, "I think it's a response to what we did."

"What we did?"

"Think about it. Two nights ago the killer escalates to two bodies in two days and now a third. It can't be just coincidence that the night we visited those brothels looking to find the ones claiming the dead prostitutes another one ended up dead. And then last night, when I went into your flat and didn't come out until dawn, another body drops."

"You think someone misconstrued the first night and assumed we were lovers then and, last night, exploded in a violent rage when I brought you into my house to have my way with you?"

"Someone's angry here."

"But not necessarily at you or I."

"These girls look just like you, Anna." John hissed, "If this isn't a message that this man, whoever he is, believes he deserves possession over you, I don't know what is."

"You're saying he's angry you have me." Anna's face blanked but John saw the thoughts running behind her eyes. "Where before the anger was just that he _didn't_ have me you're suggesting this escalation is in direct response to the escalation of our relationship."

"That's exactly what I'm saying."

"I'm not a vain person, Detective," Anna stood, "So please forgive me when I say I find it hard to believe someone would be deranged enough to send me a message through the bodies of strangled and desecrated prostitutes as a grotesque symbol of their desire for me."

"Then believe the evidence."

"I admit to the coincidence but correlation does not necessitate causation. We've only scratched the surface in these murders and, if we're honest with ourselves, we're not doing a very good job so far at proving anything. All we have are our theories. They may be close but they're just that, theories, and theories are imperfect in that they are not proven as fact."

"You think we're seeing what isn't there?"

"No," Anna shook her head, "I think we're assuming the worst given an exceedingly grim scenario."

"You don't know anyone who could do this?"

"I don't have any enemies. As you asked me two days ago I can reiterate that I have no enemies, I have no one who bears me any ill will, and I'm not the subject of anyone's fantasy."

"Then how do you explain it?"

"Fixations can come from any number of sources. Supposed I was the cause, even for a moment, then it's possible that our killer has a picture of me in their mind from some event or meeting and based on a series of events that we've yet to understand, placed my visage as the object of their desire."

"What's different about your theory from mine?"

"Mine doesn't require the person to know me." Anna paced a bit of the alley, "In this scenario I'm a face that said something once, whatever it might've been, to trigger a relationship between this killer and myself. I'm the representation of some darkness within them and they destroy that darkness by destroying what they believe is me."

"I'm still struggling to understand."

"If our killer attended the Blakes' party last night, as we assume they did, seeing me again in a situation like that could've triggered this response."

"That's all it would take?"

"For someone mad enough to go around strangling and killing prostitutes I don't believe it'd take much more." Anna paused, looking over the woman's body. "Now that I realize how much they look like me, I feel a twinge of guilt about it all."

"You shouldn't."

"But I do." Anna sighed, "Because anyone one of them could've been me but for a slight change in our circumstances. I'm standing here instead of lying there but for the grace of God."

"You've earned where you are."

"Detective, none of us earn anything. We're the product of a series of circumstances that yes, we control to a minor degree, but in the end we're only a day away from death or a factory or a poorhouse or a grave." Anna bent by the body again, "We're all as homeless as this girl but most of us just don't know it yet."


	10. The Tempest

John pressed down on the window, shoving it with all his energy until it finally shut enough that he could snap the latch.

"Not a fan of the elements Detective?" He turned to see Anna at the door to his office.

"I'm not overly enthralled with the hurricane outside." He pointed to the gale beating the window, "I thought moving into summer would mean the weather would be less prohibitive."

"Haven't you heard the saying?" John shook his head and Anna continued, "March is in like a lion out like a lamb?"

"Or in like a lion out like a lion and everything in between."

"Maybe it'll stop our killer for a bit."

"One could only hope." John clapped his hands together, "How can I help you doctor? Something about the case?"

Anna removed her hat and coat, setting them on the chair in front of his desk. "I actually came about a personal matter I think we need to settle."

"If this is about what I suggested this morning-"

"It is." Anna crossed her arms over her chest, "I've no argument with you assuming a protective role over me. In fact I find it rather flattering that you seem so convinced I'd be the object of significant to desire to someone besides yourself when that was enough."

"But?"

"But I do take umbrage with the implication that somehow my pursuit of my life or, in the case of last night and this morning, my pleasure might have anything to do with the escalations of a psychopath."

"Are we calling him that now?"

"He's someone with an obvious mental disorder and I rather agree with the Germans on this one." Anna took a breath, "I accept that I look much like the murdered women. I accept that I must mean something to the man doing this. I do not, however, accept that I'm the reason for all of this."

"When did you get the idea that I would ever suggest that?"

"Was that not what you implied this morning?"

"No," John shook his head, "I implied that the killer saw us and made an assumption. One I think we could derail by lulling him back into false security."

Anna took a seat, raising her eyebrow, "Such as?"

"Imagine if he thought you'd been reduced."

"How?"

"If the precinct no longer wanted your services or if you were no longer receiving callers of a male variety."

"You think you can calm the beast by making it seem like his work had an effect on me?" John nodded and Anna sat back in the chair, staring into the corner like she was thinking over the offer. After a moment she nodded, "I think I could see the benefit of playing into this fantasy."

"It'd take a bit." John took his seat across from her, "We need something that would look like your failure. Something to send you spiraling to a level he empathizes with to make him believe that you're once again like him."

"My rise was his fall so my fall becomes his rise?"

"Exactly."

"I could see his mind accepting that logic. It plays to further his sick fantasy."

"We'd have to make it good."

"Believable, is a better word. Even for someone as twisted as this they're not stupid."

"That's why I'm working on a plan." John opened his hands at the files on his desk, "Though I'd like your help with something before we officially get rid of your services."

"What?"

"I need someone to come with me to Five Points."

Anna snorted, "I enjoy flirting with danger but that seems a bit excessive."

"I know and I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice."

"I'm a last ditch resort?"

"You're the best resort." John smiled, "I had William, Alfred, and James do some hunting through files looking for these women."

Anna examined the files, "These are not just our victims."

"No."

"You found more victims?"

"Yes, technically. Bertie had a theory that maybe there were other women who'd reported similar events in the past that were dismissed, for any reason. He found cases that fit our killer's predilections."

"What did they do with them"

"They found their families." John pulled out a piece of paper with a number of addresses typed there, "At least the records of those who had families. Some might've moved or might no longer be living but we should see what we could find anyway."

"Why not have those three chase their leads?"

"I couldn't send them to interview the family members in Five Points."

"Because no one in Five Points will say a word to a policeman and those three are so green they'd be eaten alive?"

"Exactly. However," John held up a finger, "If you and I go they may be willing to talk to us."

"I don't know if you realized this, Detective," Anna leaned forward, "But you're a policeman."

"Not in Five Points. In Five Points I'm one of them." John stood, pulling his coat off the back of his chair, "And you're a kind face."

"I'd like to think I'm a touch more than that."

"To me, of course. To them you look trustworthy." John flicked out his lapels and pulled his collar down. "Even in those clothes you'll get more out of them than I ever could."

"So you're my bodyguard, as it were?"

"I could be that."

They went to the street and hailed a cab to take them as close to Five Points as the driver dared before insisting they walk the rest of the way. John paid the man and walked close to Anna, guiding them down the streets. He shivered in the howling rain and Anna offered him a spot under her umbrella.

"I'm glad you thought to bring one."

"Women are always prepared, Detective."

"I think here I should be John." He cautioned, eyeing a man smoking under an eve. "We're trying not to draw attention to ourselves."

"We tried the same when we visited a few brothels and look how that turned out."

"At least we tried."

"Here I don't think names and titles matter." Anna sighed, "It's just a shame."

"What?"

"All of this," She pointed around them, "When all the craftsmen left this area all the money did too. It moved uptown in a hurry and left downtown to the downtrodden. These people have nothing and others take glory in that, grinding the faces of the poor when they already wallow in a pit of despair."

"Rather Biblical in your descriptions, wouldn't you say?"

"It is what it is, John." Anna sighed, "There's so much potential here, so much light snuffed out too early and too young. These children and people who could be more if they had more."

"You truly believe that?"

"There's always a bit of light somewhere."

John shook his head, "Not in Five Points or many of the places in the boroughs. These people have been told they don't matter and now they believe they don't so they revel in it."

"Don't I know it." Anna sighed and John stopped, holding the umbrella to get her attention.

"For as much as you care, and meaning no disrespect, I don't think you do."

"You don't think I understand?"

"You can't unless you've lived it. That gnawing terror drove those women to a profession that killed them and, as horrible as it is for me to say it, that still may've been better than how they would've lived here. Crammed ten or fifteen to a room that'd go up like a match and burn them all alive if someone three shacks down was careless. Or they melt in the summer heat and freeze in winter's chill." John sighed, "These are the scum of the earth because they've been ground down to be so."

Anna nodded, holding his gaze, "That's why I do what I do, John. I may not've pulled myself from the mire, and I admit that the opportunities granted me are those that others may call privileged, but I am not blind to that. If anything it gives me more impetus to do more with what I have in the service of others."

"And you think your service will help them?"

"Yes I believe it will."

"How?"

"Because I expose the lie, John. Had our killer slaughtered a hundred living here no one would bat an eye and that grinds at me. What grinds me more is, as Moore said, we first make thieves and then punish them." Anna pointed to the neighborhood around them, "We created this. In the greatest city in the world we bred this to fester and thrive inside it."

"Did we?"

"Yes! By allowing physical evils to produce moral evils, John. They degrade men to the conditions of brutes, and they will have brutal propensities and passions." She looked at him, "Does that summate your assessment?"

"Beautifully." John let out a breath, "If I didn't know better I'd say you were a poet, not an alienist."

"There's a touch of the ephemeral in what I do, to be sure." Anna smiled, "But I didn't write that."

"Who did?"

"Robert M. Hartley, founder of the AICP. He's one of my personal heroes."

"I imagine you don't collect many of those."

"On the contrary I've amassed quite a few."

"Really?" John chuckled.

"Why the tone of surprise?"

"I guess I just assumed it'd be difficult to impress someone as impressive as yourself. To match wits with you would be a thing to behold."

"Not so, you do it everyday." Anna went to walk forward and John moved with her, holding the umbrella in the downpour. "I'm as simple as anyone else. I have people I admire just as I have people I despise. I'm human and I'm not perfect."

"Could've fooled me."

John caught Anna's smirk out of the corner of his eye, "You're easily gotten then so I'll keep trying to fool you."

"I wouldn't argue with that in the least."

John found the first address and beat on the door with the side of his fist to have them hear over the winds. A small child, dusted in grime, cracked the door. Anna stepped forward, smiling at her.

"Hello. We need to speak to-"

"You don't need to speak to no one." A woman grabbed the door, pushing the child back. "We've got nothing to say."

"We're here about your daughter," John held up the picture, clipped carefully to leave the gory details out, "She was found dead and-"

"Serves her right, selling herself like a whore to that man." The door slammed in their faces and John turned to Anna.

"Not what I expected." Anna stepped off the stoop and John walked them in the direction of the next address. "I thought they'd be a little more worried about the fate of their children.

"It's about what I expected."

"Why"

"Because there's a mix of jealousy and anger."

"Jealousy?"

"That they escaped. Even if it's to a whore house it's still escaping how they live here." John navigated them up a rickety staircase. "And anger that they sold themselves to others and abandoned their families."

"No way to win in this?" Anna lifted her skirt slightly higher to avoid a broken slat. "Either they die in this squalor or in another kind."

"Don't we all die in squalor?" John rapped on the door. They waited a moment and he tried again.

"Maybe they're not home." Anna suggested just as the door swung open.

An old man, bent at the waist, stared up at them from under his forehead. "Yes?"

"Sir, are you Mr. Drake?"

"Who's asking?"

"We're here about your daughter," John held up another photo and the man spit to the side, Anna narrowly dodging it.

"She ain't been my daughter since she ran off with that man." He waved a hand, "Good riddance to her."

The door shut and John heard a lock pull on the other side. He sighed and motioned down the stairs to Anna. "This might've been a waste."

"It's not a waste if we learn something."

"You think we'll learn something?" John scoffed, "You've more faith than I do Doctor."

"Then you've not been paying attention, Detective."

"How'd you mean?"

"We already learned something." Anna stopped them, "They sold themselves to a man."

"And that helps us?"

"Yes. Now we just need to find out more about the man they sold themselves to and find him."

They spent the afternoon sending water farther and farther up their clothes and they wandered Five Points with the addresses of the families of the murdered and attacked women. Door after door shut in their face and even with Anna's softer touch they had no more interest in the fate of their children than any of the brothel owners did. The evening wore on, the cold intensified and both of them slumped a little in their failures as no one would answer questions about their daughters or the man who whisked them away.

John raised his fist to the last door, noticing Anna shivered as much as his hand trembled. He took her hands in his, both like ice, and rubbed a moment. She looked up at him, her teeth chattering.

"No matter what, this is the last door."

"Don't tell me you're quitting Detective?" She tried to goad him but he felt her body practically convulse in his grip as it tried to warm itself.

"Yes, we are." John knocked on the door and blinked at the wrinkled woman standing there. "Ms. Shackleton?"

"It's Mrs." She drew her shawl closer, "Who wants to know."

"Mrs. Shackleton," Anna stepped up, "We're looking for information on your daughter."

"Emily hasn't lived here in five years." Mrs. Shackleton shifted in place, "I haven't seen her."

"Ma'am," John removed his hat, "Emily passed, a month ago."

"I see," Mrs. Shackleton nodded and steppe back, "You'd best come in."

John let Anna go first, taking the umbrella to shut and shake it before following them into the house. The hallway cramped his frame and he practically had to walk sideways to reach the small room at the back. Mrs. Shackleton offered them chairs but John declined, sure his weight would break them to splinters. Anna accepted one and pushed a stool in John's direction.

When they were all sitting Anna began, "You said Emily left five years ago?"

"Yes," Mrs Shackleton nodded, "She thought she'd have better luck elsewhere."

"Elsewhere?" John pressed, interlacing his fingers and wondering if the reason he could not feel them was the numbness from the cold.

"She worked in a factory. Made shirts for twelve hours a day for pennies on the dollar." Mrs. Shackleton drew her shawl around her bony shoulders like she might try to strangle herself with it in front of them. "A man came, said there was a chance for a better life for a girl like herself. She told me about it and I told her she couldn't do it. She left in the middle of the night and I hadn't seen her since."

"Could you describe the man?"

"I only saw him from a distance and it was five years ago."

"Still?" John opened his hands, "It could help us find-"

"Find who, sir?"

"Find Emily's killer.

Mrs. Shackleton narrowed her eyes, "You said Emily passed."

"Yes, Mr. Bates did say that but he used a euphemism," Anna interjected, "Emily was murdered and we're trying to find details that will lead us to her killer."

"Murdered?" Mrs. Shackleton stood up in a hurry, "Murdered how? Why?"

"We're still trying to find out, Mrs. Shackleton," Anna stood, taking the other woman in her grip, helping her sit back in her chair, "That's why we need to know what you remember about the man who convinced her to leave."

"Well dressed. You only see men who look like that here if they're collecting on debts or taking our children. To the factories, to the flesh houses, or to the slaughter. They're all the same."

"What about his physical appearance?" John put a hand on his chest, "Large like me?"

"About your height, maybe. Darker hair that yours and better handled. Smaller, but he looked like he could handle himself in a scuffle." Mrs. Shackleton looked over Anna, "Skin was more your coloring and eyes like yours but colder, much colder. Like he had no soul."

John watched Anna's eyes light with recognition, "Thank you, Mrs. Shackleton that's more than helpful."

"It'll help you find my daughter's killer?"

"It gives us the tools, yes." Anna soothed, "I'm sorry we've taken up so much of your time and we're sorry about your loss."

"No," Mrs. Shackleton shook her head, "I lost Emily five years ago. I mourned her then. I've no strength to mourn her now."

They both waited a moment but Mrs. Shackleton just gave herself over to sobs and buried her head in her arms on her table. Anna gestured for John and they made to leave. John slipped down the hallway, grabbing the umbrella and opening it before Anna stepped outside. The tumult from earlier settled into more of a drizzle as John steered them back to the main road to find a cab.

Anna spoke first, "You recognized her description?"

"I want to say Thomas but that's too convenient."

"Convenient or not, I'd hazard it was Thomas." Anna shuddered, "Sounds just like him to snatch girls from their homes for a life that's not really a life."

"I thought Thomas worked for Carlisle." John paused, "Branson suggested Carlisle's a gangster but not a trafficker."

"Carlisle's got his hand in anything that'll turn his profit. Now it's development, a few years ago it was shipping, and in a few years it'll change again. He changes with the winds and the seasons."

"Then how does Thomas figure into that?"

"He's an enforcer, Mr. Bates. He works at whatever Carlisle needs."

"He collects for brothels?" John snorted, "Depravity and vice are his trade in all it's forms I'd imagine."

"You wouldn't be half wrong," Anna shivered and John stepped closer, trying to give her any of his own failing body heat.

"But which brothel?"

"Branson once suggested that Thomas and O'Brien went back a ways." Anna shrugged, "Maybe they keep one another a cut above."

"Explains how Carlisle abducted us after we left the Abbey. If O'Brien squealed on our presence there to Thomas, knowing he was following us." John caught sight of a group of people standing directly in their path. "And maybe how he knows where we are now."

Anna saw them too and pulled her handbag closer to her, "We did make a bit of a stir with all those slamming doors."

"I'd hoped a little less of a stir." John put his hand on his pistol. "Stay close."

"I didn't think of doing anything else."

They continued forward until the five men crowded the alley, blocking their way. The biggest of them, standing just taller than John, folded his arms, "Can't let you pass."

"Why's that?"

"Because I've got a message for you."

"I don't know you enough for you to have anything to say to me." John held the man's gaze and felt Anna just off his left shoulder.

"I'm more of a middle man really." The man stabbed a finger into John's chest, "Keep out of Five Points and let the dead girls be."

"Dead girls?"

"Those whores being slit uptown." The man growled, "Let them be dead and let the world forget about it."

"Why?" Anna stepped forward but John put out an arm to stop her, "Why should they be given any less attention than anyone else killed?"

"Because the lady doctor needs to not stir the pot," The man sneered, "Stay tending your crazies and your nutters and let the dead stay dead little girl."

"Little girl?"

"Anna." John hissed as the man started laughing.

"Yeah, biting off more than you can chew." The man went to put a finger on her but Anna batted it away. He only laughed more, "Feisty isn't she?"

"I'm more than that."

"Sure you are." The man crowded them back a pace, "Leave this."

"Who sent you?" John pressed, "What mutual friend do we have that wants you to make sure we leave this be?"

"One who wants to build a greater New York."

"Carlisle." Anna spit and the man only grunted. "Tell him to pogue moh hone."

The man charged but John gripped his gun and punched at the man. With the metal between his fingers John heard a snap of the man's nose and he stumbled sideways, holding the broken and bleeding appendage. John stepped back, spinning his gun to hold at the ready.

"Don't be stupid enough to attack a police officer gentlemen."

The men thought a moment and rushed them. John fired at the man with a broken nose, leaving him howling on the ground as blood leaked through his shirt. John fired again, tripping another man with the sound of a shattered kneecap, before punching a third man. He stumbled back over his fallen friend and John pointed his gun at the man.

"Run away."

He scrambled to escape, tripping over the other two as he dashed away. John turned for the last two and saw Anna calmly replacing a pistol in her handbag as the two other men rolled on the ground holding their bleeding limbs. Anna faced him and John raised his eyebrows.

Her hands went in the air, "What?"

"Nothing." He grabbed her arm, "We need to get somewhere safe."


	11. Tost to Me

John unlocked his door and led Anna inside. "Take off your wet things and wrap yourself in that blanket while I get water heating."

"Trying to get me undressed Detective?"

John snorted, "We're past that point Doctor."

She smiled, "Still a nice thought to think you want to see me undress."

"A very nice thought but not the one I was having just now."

He shed his own clothes, draping them over chairs before wrapping himself in a quilt and pulling his bath to the middle of the floor. John stoked his fire higher and filled the kettle and a pot. One went on the stove and the other in the fireplace before he pumped more water through his faucet.

"I didn't know you could get a pump installed in your apartment." John glanced over to see Anna, hair held up on her head, wrapped in his blanket.

"Normally no but I helped put it in so the cost of labor was covered." He sat on a chair, holding the quilt close and shivering slightly.

"Maybe we should've gone to mine." Anna took another chair, sitting near him but John shook his head. "Why not?"

"If our killer is watching your house, or following us, then the two of us walking into your home, soaked to the skin, would only rile him further."

"And the two of us sneaking into your flat, soaked to the skin, isn't going to rile him?"

"The killer won't come to Five Points."

"We're not in Five Points, John."

"We're close enough." John stood as the kettle hissed. He poured it into the bath with the cold water there, refilled and set it back on the stove before grabbing the pot from the fire. "Anyone coming into Five Points'll be watched like hawks."

"Like we were?" Anna followed his movements as John poured the pot into the tub before refilling it and setting it back on the fire.

"Exactly. If he saw us and got angry he'd be stymied. He won't find the prostitutes he wants here and to drag one from Five Points uptown to murder'll be too much work." John tested the water, "Get in."

"What?"

"I don't want you dying of hypothermia," John pointed to the water, "It's warm enough and in a minute it'll be warmer."

"I still think this is a ploy to get me naked in your flat." Anna stood and let the blanket drop. She shrugged when John's jaw dropped a little, "But I don't find I mind."

"I assure you I had only your health in mind."

"I'm sure." Anna got into the tub and relaxed a bit, putting her arms on the side, "Could be a little warmer."

"As soon as the kettle-" It whistled and Anna smiled at him, "As you require."

"I could get used to this kind of service," She leaned back as John poured the kettle into the water and refilled it, setting it on the stove for the final time.

"Don't you have a maid in that rather grand house of yours?"

"Technically Ms. Baxter is my maid but she does such good work at the Institute I'm loathe to send her to my home just to dust my bookshelves." Anna closed her eyes in the water, "I fend for myself most of the time."

"Sounds about right." John took the pot off the fire and dumped it into the tub. "You don't seem the type who lets anyone hold too much power over them."

"Except you." Anna grabbed his quilt and John stopped, "Join me?"

"Should I be worried that you're the one hoping to see me naked Doctor?" John teased, setting the pot near the fire and emptying the kettle for the last time into the tub.

Anna shrugged, "Maybe. But isn't that flattering?"

"More than." John took his chair back, "But I think we should worry a little more about the fact that Mr. Carlisle seems very invested in stopping our investigation."

"Later," Anna soothed, sitting up in the tub, holding John's gaze. "Let the worries of tomorrow take care of themselves."

"I don't know if these are tomorrow's worries. They feel like today's."

"They should saved for tomorrow." Anna gestured to herself, "You've got a naked woman in your tub in the middle of your flat and you want to discuss our evening's near death experience."

"They are becoming a little too commonplace for me to just ignore it."

"I'd rather talk about something else."

"Such as?"

"Such as you mentioned, when we came in," John followed Anna's hand as she drifted it down from her shoulder, under the water, to play over the line of her hips, "That you weren't thinking about having me undress just to see my naked."

"I recall." John cleared his throat, the heat rising in his cheeks.

"Well," She leaned closer as her fingers moved between her legs, "Are you having that thought yet?"

John put a hand on her cheek, "If I were?"

"Then I'd invite you to join me," Anna teased, tugging at the quilt, "It's too big in here without you."

John shed the quilt and eased into the tub, facing Anna. She crawled over his legs to straddle his thighs. Her hands went around his shoulders and she ground down on him, "How's that feel?"

He sucked in a breath, hands holding her waist. "I thought this was for you?"

"It can be for both of us." She moved his hand from her waist between her legs, "I don't mind sharing and I rather enjoyed watching you undress."

"Did you?" John trailed his fingers over her in the warm water.

"Very much." Anna rocked her hips against his fingers, "And I also enjoyed the bath we shared this morning."

"Ah," John drew his hand along her, grinning as she bit her lip, "That's why you wanted to share. You want a repeat performance."

"I would've thought that quite obvious." Anna put her mouth to his ear, tugging there before kissing down his jawline. "Something about having you at my mercy is a very appealing idea."

"What makes it so appealing?" John tucked his head to kiss over her breast.

"Other than the fact that I adore the sounds you make when you're begging?" Anna gasped when John sucked her nipple into his mouth, his three fingers forcing themselves deeper against her clenching inner walls.

John growled against her chest, using his other hand to hold her to him while her nails scratched over his shoulders. He released her breast and kissed his way to her ear, "Other than that because, of the two of us, I think you do far more begging than I do."

"Be that as it may," Anna shifted just slightly and John gritted his teeth as she stroked over him with her hand, "I love to see you absolutely free."

"The feeling's-" John let his head fall back, his own hands stuttering in his drive to send her over the edge, "Mutual."

"Good." Anna drew her hand up, keeping the other holding where his neck and shoulder met. "I'd hate to think us unequal in this relationship."

"No one is your equal Doctor."

Anna stopped, grabbing his chin to force him to look at her. "You are, John, and I never want you thinking any differently. If we're not in step on this we will fail. Do you understand?"

John used her distraction to pinch at her nerves. Anna cried out and John returned to his rhythm, "Completely."

Anna could only clutch at his shoulder, chest heaving as John drove her to finish. He paused, feeling her just on the edge, and her head shot up. Her eyes narrowed and he tried to look innocent.

"I thought more begging should be involved."

"Did you?" John could hear her struggle to form words, her eyes hazing. "On whose side?"

"I'd hoped yours." John grunted as Anna's hand tightened on his arousal. "I do have a bit of a point to prove."

"I don't give in that easily." She ran her fingers lower, massaging his sack. "But I'll accept your unconditional surrender."

"First to the finish Doctor." John slowed his fingers, fighting his own urge to jerk in her grip, and continued caressing her breast. "I like my odds."

"You shouldn't," Anna slid back, grabbing both of John's wrists and holding them to the side of the tub as she slid herself down. "I don't lose."

John squeezed his eyes shut when Anna took his fingers to her mouth, sucking them dry before rocking her hips onto him. He lost all control, holding at her waist and ignoring the water sloshing over the sides. His hands slipped on her skin and he dug his fingers into her ass to hold steady.

Anna twisted and John shattered, driving up into her until he felt he could no longer move. His throat felt raw, sucking air to fill his deflated lungs, but John managed to work a hand around to where he was still buried in Anna. Lowering his mouth to her neck, kissing his way up to her lips, John's weak fingers pressed and rubbed at her. She moaned and bit down on his shoulder when she came, draping herself over him.

John slumped back against the tub, lifting Anna with each breath that filled his chest. He tipped his head down at her when he felt her laughing there. Shifting slightly he raised her head to look at her. "What?"

"I won."

"I don't mind surrendering to you." John took her lips and Anna responded. He broke after a moment and shook his head, "I think I might've caused some problems with my neighbors when their ceiling starts leaking."

"Blame the rain." Anna sat up, slipping off him, "I think I'm a little tired. Mind taking me to bed?"

John could not get out of the tub fast enough.

* * *

He stroked over her back almost without thinking, his gaze on nothing in particular in the dark room. The fire still crackled in the corner, giving everything a tinge of an orange glow. John shifted and heard a mumbled complaint from Anna.

Looking down John smiled. Her head was on his chest, one of her arms draped around him, and her hair spreading out behind her. John ran a finger up, playing with a strand before returning to his idle play on her skin.

"If you keep brooding I'll just find a cab home."

John glanced down but Anna's eyes were still closed. "You're awake?"

"How can I not be when you're mind is slaving away so hard I can almost hear the wheels turning." Anna shifted, blinking at him, "What's troubling you?"

"Why'd none of the houses report a missing girl?"

"Only you, with a woman in your bed, take the time to think about prostitutes."

John tsked his teeth at her but she only sniggered. "I'm serious, why'd none of them do anything to find these girls?"

"You'd know how these work better than me," Anna pushed herself upright, crossing her legs under herself but holding the blanket close as she shivered slightly, "But since the practice of prostitution is legal I'd say it can't be that they're afraid of the law… especially since the only law against it is the moral one. Maybe because they don't care."

"Someone has to care."

"The religious types care."

"The zealots want to cleanse the streets of wickedness and lawmakers appease them before visiting the exact houses they swore to tear down, that's not the care I'm talking about." John shook his head, "Who cares for these girls, or didn't in these cases, when they go missing?"

"Discounting that I believe every human being owes it to another to care for their general welfare, why would they need to care?"

"Each of those girls represents an investment. The exact price fluctuates depending on the client or the request of the turn around but on any given night those girls would bring in ten dollars for the house."

"And?"

"If the money's not coming in, why did no one notice the girls were missing and why not report it?" John shrugged, "If you have people like Thomas to collect ad recruit your girls then you've got to have someone keeping an eye on them. Where were they?"

Anna frowned, "No one noticed because the killer spirited them away."

"Yes but why didn't anyone notice the girls were missing when his money ran out? They only pay for a limited time or certain talents. None of those girls talked about running away before and it wasn't like this was a man who'd filled their heads with dreams of taking them to a better place."

"Because it doesn't fit with his control fantasy."

"Right." John adjusted to face Anna, "If he doesn't want to woo these women because he wants to possess them, then why did no one notice when he never brought them back?"

"If we follow the logic of our killer than he's not going to risk someone coming after him and spoiling his fun." Anna put her hands on her neck, craning it back a moment as she thought, "It's possible that our killer pays more for them."

John pursed his lips, nodding, "Whoever he is has enough money to pay them enough to convince them to leave with him- which is risky in and of itself- and allow a degree of personal violence, pay the brothel, and then get the extra pair of eyes to look the other way."

"I'd say our three suspects are looking rather promising."

"Carlisle, Crowborough, and Bricker?" Anna nodded but John paused, "I want to put Green on our list."

"Green?"

"He's got the potential."

"Green hasn't got the willpower." Anna shifted, "For him to kill these women he'd have to admit, for even a moment, that he thinks anything of me. That's be impossible for someone of his ego."

"All the same, I want to keep him in mind."

"If you must." Anna looked away a moment, a smiling rising on her face.

John narrowed his eyes, "What?"

"I just had a thought." Anna tried to shift on the bed but John grabbed her.

"What are you up to?"

"Nothing. Go on with your theory."

"Not until you tell me what you're thinking."

"It was nothing." Anna insisted but John caught the smirk she tried to hide.

He pinned her to the bed, kissing at her neck and punctuating his next words with sucks to her throat, "What are you up to?"

Anna pushed at his shoulder, forcing John back on his bed. "Do you really want to know?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

She pulled back from his touch and moved his arms above his head. "I was thinking about keeping people in mind and then I wondered if you even kept me in mind and decided I needed a way to do that."

"How?"

"By making you beg." Anna rubbed at his wrists, not looking at his face, "Would you beg for me John?"

"I'd do anything for you."

"I think I like the sound of that." Anna kissed down his arms, keeping her body just out of his reach.

Her lips followed the shifts in his muscles, caressing them with her hands when her lips moved away. John closed his eyes, focusing all his energy on feeling her, and groaned when she swept her hands up his sides to zigzag her way down his chest. She teethed at his nipples, running her hands through the hair covering him, and rubbed her legs over him as she slid lower.

John forced his eyes open when Anna's hair tickled over his hips. She leered at him, running her tongue over her lips before licking around the base of his hardening arousal. John's hips bucked and Anna's Cheshire grin spread even wider. When she tucked her hair behind her ears before taking him in her mouth John moaned.

Her mouth sucked at the tip before she ran her teeth over him. He twitched and jerked in her grip while one of her hands caressed his sack and the other traced her nails over his abdomen. John dug his hands into the sheets, clenching there until his knuckles were bright enough to see clearly in the dark of the room lit only by the fire.

When she took him in her mouth John almost shot off the bed. She wrapped her tongue over him like he was a flavored ice at Coney Island, and sucked him right to the tip. Her tongue played with the slit, licking out before giving her satisfaction as a vibration that just made him harder.

John risked a hand to her arm, stopping her when she dipped to finish what she started. She raised an eyebrow at him and John lifted himself enough to kiss her lips. He tugged at her, "Take me."

"I wanted to finish you." Anna crawled back up him, "I've taken you before."

"Last time you finished and then I did." John rested back, almost biting his tongue when she slid down to settle above him, twisting her hips a little with him inside her. "This time I want to finish looking up at you."

"Will you beg for it?"

"Please Anna," John placed a hand on her hip and Anna leaned onto his chest, "Please take me."

"As you wish." She sat back up and rocked against him.

John moved his other hand to her ass, sitting up to better position himself. He met her drives with thrusts, sinking as deeply as he could. She held her position with a hand at his shoulder and the other at his waist.

In a few moments John could feel the uptick in his pleasure. He murmured something and Anna leaned toward him, wrapping her legs around him to lock behind his back. She arched back, changing the angle, and John came. His body rutted into her, spilling everything he could while she worked a hand at her center to send herself over the edge to join him.

The sound of their breathing replaced the sound of their slapping flesh and Anna rested her head on his shoulder as he did the same with her. In a moment John drew the hair from her face to look at her. Anna frowned and John kissed the lines of her forehead.

"I do hope it's not impertinent to say," John chose his next words carefully, "But I think you've ruined me for anyone else."

"Has there been anyone else?"

"Not for a long time." John bit his lip, "But I don't think I could even look at another woman now without comparing them to you."

"And after only five days," Anna moved off him, dragging him back down to the bed so she could lay with her head on his chest under the blankets. "I couldn't be more flattered if I tried."

"I'm being sincere. I'm-"

"John," Anna put a finger on his lips to stop him, "I know you're being sincere. And it may please you to know, I feel the same."

She kissed him and John ran a hand over her arm as she supported herself on his chest. He faced her, his voice low in the darkness. "I know I'm not worthy of you."

"Says who?"

"Me."

"I think we've waited long enough to find people we'd like to be together with, you and I, so can we let that be enough for now?" Anna settled back down, "We've got more than enough problems in the morning."

"'Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof' yeah?"

"What?" Anna chuckled next to him.

"It's the end of that line you said earlier when I wanted to talk about why Carlisle keeps trying to stop our investigation by hiring thugs."

"Oh," Anna snuggled next to him, "I was so caught up in you in I forgot."

"Charmer."

* * *

John smiled to himself as he watched Anna say something that made O'Brien's face pale. When she signaled him he walked over to join them and nodded at O'Brien. "I think the good doctor here explained what we're hoping to find and how we're also praying you'll cooperate."

"She did." O'Brien huffed, "But I've got nothing to tell you."

"You do and once we have it we'll leave. If not," John waved a hand at the occupants behind them, shifting in their chairs, "These clients won't be yours anymore."

"Won't they?"

"Legal or no, those who buy in the flesh trade don't much care for the presence of coppers on the premises." John leaned on the bar, "We can wait until you're desperate."

O'Brien threw up her hands, "Fine. Whoever he is pays in advance."

"What?"

"About a day before those girls go missing we each get a little packet in the mail. I've talked to some of the other owners when I got mine and they say to take it and don't question your good fortune."

"What's in the packet?" John shot a look to Anna and she shrugged.

"Money. Enough to almost buy a girl out of the brothel itself. The instructions say we're to give a percentage to the girl's family and, if none are to be found, we're to give it to the other girls. We keep our cut and that's all."

"Why not keep the whole thing?" Anna held up her hand like she wanted to balance something in her palm. "No one would know."

"Someone tried that and got a bullet to the brain for it."

"What?" John narrowed his eyes, "Who did?"

"Flitshire. The old bag wanted to be stingy with the money and, when she went to cash the whole thing in the till, shot comes from nowhere." O'Brien mimed firing a gun. "Bullet right to the brain pan and splattered it all over her office. Suffice it to say, Duneagle was over."

"When was this?"

"Five years ago." O'Brien shuffled on her feet, "Though it's changed a bit since then."

"How so?" Anna pressed and O'Brien snorted.

"It used to be he'd just take the girl and she'd come back shaken, sometimes a little beaten, and usually worse for wear but alive. The moment the money in those packets picked up I should've known something worse was afoot."

"When he killed the first woman?"

O'Brien nodded. "I don't often feel selfless but when I heard what happened to our girl I rid myself of the whole packet. I won't take blood money."

"No, you just take any other kind." Anna pushed away from the counter and headed for the door.

John risked a look in her direction before facing O'Brien again, "Did you deliver the money as instructed?"

"I'm still alive aren't I?"

"I mean," John put a hand out, as if he wanted to press air into the counter, "Did you deliver it to the family?"

"Emilia had no more family. But the others have. The families would take the money and spit in your face but Five Pointers aren't fools."

"No, they're not." John left O'Brien and joined Anna by the door. "We need to go back to Mrs. Shackleton."

"Why, we already know what we need to know about Emily."

"But not about the money." John hailed a cab and held the door open for Anna. "If the killer sent Emilia's brothel owner money then some of that went to Mrs. Shackleton or else we'd be investigating another kind of murder."

"But why pay that much?" Anna settled into her seat as John called the address to the driver before climbing in to join her. "If he just wanted to rape and murder a girl there are easier ways."

"There are but not that he'd use." John waved a hand, "He's addicted to his pattern now. It was a fancy a long time ago but now it's his obsession."

"It's the control. " Anna sighed, "We're talking about someone with a high opinion of himself. The idea that he resorts to prostitutes for pleasure grates on him." Anna admitted, "And he's looking to resolve an issue with me, since you're attached to that theory."

"There's merit to it."

"I don't deny that," Anna rested back on the seat, "The problem with him is he wants their trust. For even the smallest moment he wants them to love him."

"So he pays them exorbitant fees, pays their owners, and pays their families?" John sucked the inside of his cheek, "The girls'd be willing to try something a little riskier for a bigger reward."

"It's disgusting." Anna shook her head, "He thinks he's doing them a kindness, has convinced himself of it, by killing them. He justifies his obsession with killing them but takes his indulgences beforehand to gratify his need for lordship over them with his grand shows of mercy to them and their families for the loss of a daughter or sister."

"I don't think he's got the compassion to even think in those terms."

"Then what? If he's not buying their souls what's he buying?"

"Slaves." John squinted out the window in the glaring spring sunlight, "He's buying slaves to kill the way someone buys meat at a market."

Anna scoffed on her seat, "The more we learn about this man the less pity I feel for his condition."

"Are we even sure he has one?"

"This man has an ingrained sense of entitlement. He leapt from raping women, because he believed he was owed their bodies or their attentions, to killing them because of something associated with me."

"Have you given more thought to what happened a month ago?"

Anna shrugged, "I started officially supporting Sybil Crawley-Branson's work with tuberculosis victims, the Institute won a sizable government grant that I snatched from some art project, and I came down against a public commission to move the minority children out of an asylum that both Mr. Carlisle and Mr. Crowborough want razed for their new city to rise in its place. The zoning commission took my advice over theirs."

"Green, Bricker, Carlisle, and Crowborough," John ticked them off on his fingers, "You've a busy woman Doctor Smith."

"Life is no fun with nothing to do." Anna smiled.

They left the cab just before they reached Five Points and wound their way through the mess of houses to Mrs. Shackleton's door. Anna knocked and they waited. When no one came John tried, pounding a little harder.

When no one came again John readied himself to slam his hand on the wood when someone from the floor above shouted down to them. "She ain't there."

John and Anna stepped back, craning their heads up to see the person leaning out the window, a cigarette dangling from their lips. John turned to Anna but she shrugged and he hoped that meant she would not tell if the figure was a man or a woman. Putting a hand over his eyes to shade them John called up to the person.

"Where'd she go?"

"Do I look like her sodding keeper?"

"It's about the death of her daughter." Anna tried, bringing her gloved hand to her forehead as well.

"Whores meet wicked ends."

"Be that as it may," John bit out, "We need to speak to her."

"Who?" John and Anna turned to see a younger woman, shuffling three young children around her legs, trying to enter Mrs. Shackleton's old door.

"The woman who used to live here." Anna stepped forward, holding her hands at her waist, "It's very important."

"She moved to the edge of Five Points just last night."

"We were here just yesterday evening."

"I know," The woman nodded, "I saw you."

"Then how'd she move so quickly?"

The woman shrugged, "I don't know. All I know is she now lives on the corner of Froggatt and Coyle."

"Thank you." John dug into his pocket and gathered his change, "For all your help."

John and Anna hurried through the streets, making at least one wrong turn before they found the right block. They gazed up at the building before taking a deep breath and working their way up floor by floor. Many slammed doors in their faces but when they reached the third to last door on the top floor John knocked and Mrs. Shackleton opened it.

"Mrs. Shackleton," John took a bit catching his breath, "We're so glad we found you."

"I thought we finished our conversation last night." She folded her shawl around her but John noticed it was a new one. Not new in the way those uptown bought clothes but from a higher-class pawnshop.

"We finished that conversation last night, Mrs. Shackleton." John waved his hand toward the inside of her flat, "But you forgot to tell us that someone paid you after your daughter's death."

Mrs. Shackleton did not move from the doorway. "You didn't ask."

"Mrs. Shackleton we're only trying to find who killed your daughter. We're not here accusing you of anything and we certainly aren't here looking for anything but justice. We just need your help." Anna stepped forward and as John adjusted his position near the railing he caught a glint in his eye.

He turned toward it but did not see anything, though the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Rubbing at the back of his neck John scanned the rooftops around them, the feeling of unease bubbling in his gut. Anna's voice drew him back to the conversation.

"What did this man look like? The same one as before?"

"No," Mrs. Shackleton shook her head, "He came last night, right after you left. He had a woman with him, shorter with dark hair. Both had these eyes that just-"

There was a sound like a knife striking a pillow and Mrs. Shackleton fell to the ground, her door spraying with blood. John grabbed Anna around the waist and dragged her through the door, ducking around a corner as another bullet buried itself in the door. He covered Anna with his body while searching the flat for another exit.

He spotted the back window and ducked through the hall toward it, checking all around. Then he saw it. John grabbed a frying pane and smashed the back window. Knocking all the glass out he looked over the edge and sighed before pulling back into the flat.

Using the frying pan he nudged the door closed enough to take another bullet before motioning to Anna. She ran across the hall and joined him in the kitchen. "Who's shooting at us?"

"With that kind of precision, it's the Wraith."

"The who?"

"The Wraith. A contract killer hired by some of the gangsters to keep their enemies in line. Hasn't been seen since the census but for some reason they're back in town." John gestured to the window, "That's our out."

Anna ducked her head out and then turned back to him, "The garbage chute?"

"Better than a bullet on the balcony."

Anna sighed and worked herself over the ledge before dropping. John followed her, aiming to the side so he didn't land on her. They rolled a moment, both trying to stand in the mixture of garbage and refuse that may or may not have been the results of an outhouse cleaning. John shook himself and they darted through the back alley, escaping toward the main street but taking care not to be seen from the rooftops.


	12. I Lift My Lamp

John and Anna stood in front of Chief Crawley's desk, both reeking of garbage and sewage. Chief Crawley held a handkerchief over his nose and stood by the open window. When he spoke his voice muffled in the material of the handkerchief.

"Just shot, right in front of you?"

"Sniper." John nodded, "I thought I saw a glint but when I looked for it I couldn't find the shooter. It wasn't a moment later Mrs. Shackleton's brains decorated her front door."

"Then I guess someone has been following you."

Anna snuck a look at John, "Closer than we'd like, sir."

"And neither of you noticed?"

John and Anna cringed, looking at one another, before John answered, "We've been a little occupied with the case sir."

"Detective Bates you were the best tracker and sniper our regiment had. While I believe that Doctor Smith here might not be as familiar with the concept of knowing if she's being followed, I cannot, in good conscience, accept you wouldn't notice."

"With all due respect, sir, this is not the American west where you simply take up post next to a rock formation and wait for your enemy to come to you." Anna stood straighter and John felt his eyebrows brush his hairline with how far they rose at her boldness.

Chief Crawley dropped the handkerchief a moment but immediately replaced it, "Excuse me Doctor?"

"Detective Bates and I have been shot at, chased, ambushed, and almost killed several times in the last few days. Not to mention there are almost two million people in this city. Given our dedication and focus to the case at hand I don't see it as too far outside the realm of belief that we may've, in our singular pursuit of a killer, missed his assassins or agents in our peripherals."

John turned to Chief Crawley, who pouted a bit from his position by the window. He went to approach them but drew back, gagging, "That hardly excuses the negligence of missing a sniper wielding a gun on a rooftop."

"The rooftops of Five Points, and most of New York, are streets unto themselves Chief Crawley. Someone walking among the smoke stacks, clothes lines, and ramshackle huts there would be as invisible as anyone on the street." Anna folded her arms over her chest, "And, while we recognize the tragedy that is Mrs. Shackleton's murder, we also recognize that we're doing the best we can."

"The cards do seem rather stacked against us." John offered and Chief Crawley glared at him.

"Then unshuffled the deck, Detective." Chief Crawley banged his fist on the window sill and then winced. Shaking out his hand he continued, "The city's already restless with the everyday murders and robberies from the disgruntled, angry, and broken. The last thing we need to report to the Mayor or the Commissioner or the people, heaven forbid, is that we've got no lead on some demonic killer slaughtering women in the streets."

"He's hardly demonic, Chief Crawley." Anna snorted, "He's a man, Disturbed, no question, but not a demon."

"It's a figure of speech, Doctor."

"But the last thing we need is a panic because people believe in the superstitious notion that a demon walks among them."

"Doctor I already said-"

"And I believe-"

"We're not without our leads, sir." John cut between their argument, pulling out his notebook but replacing it quickly, noting the damp pages smudged his writing, "The killer choses from a very specific selection offered by the brothels, he looks for a very particular woman, and he's of the upper class."

Chief Crawley paled, "Are you saying that, instead of some man with too much loose change rattling around in his skull instead of brains killing these women, it's someone of my class?"

"Someone of high education, relative social status, and a rather repressed background." Anna nodded, "We've narrowed our possible leads to three suspects."

"Four." John turned to Anna when she shot him a look.

Chief Crawley looked between the two of them, "There seems to be disagreement here."

"The good doctor wishes to exclude someone from the list for personal reasons."

"Doctor," Chief Crawley turned to Anna, "As much as I respect your opinion on all things related to the mind, I'm sure if Detective Bates here believes the killer could be this fourth individual then it's worth investigating."

"I'm entitled to my opinions sir."

"Aren't we all?" Chief Crawley waved them from his office, "As soon as you can, wash yourselves off. Otherwise, all hands on deck and both eyes open yes? No more snipers unseen from the rooftops and smokestacks."

They nodded and left the office. John headed toward his desk but Anna tugged on his sleeve. He turned to her, furrowing his brow as she nodded her head toward a corner. She kept her arms folded over her chest as John joined her.

"What's wrong?"

"This is going to sound a bit petty but I need you to hear me out and listen carefully to what I have to say before you respond. Can you do that?" John nodded and Anna took a breath before speaking, "I'd rather you didn't question me in front of Chief Crawley or insinuate that I would, in any way, allow personal attachments to cloud my judgment in this investigation."

John's jaw dropped a little, "Sorry?"

"I said 'three' and you immediately said 'four' when we mentioned our possible suspects."

"Because we do have four possible perpetrators."

"We don't have the evidence to support your theory. You're only saying Doctor Green could be guilty because you don't like him."

"How I feel about him, personally, bears no weight on why I think he could possibly be a reasonable suspect in this case." John paused, "Though you're right, I don't like him."

"And I think your justification for why he could be, or should be, a suspect relies too heavily on what you thought of him. We've no right to accuse a man if he did nothing."

"And, as a trained investigator, I assert that my feelings about him stem from a gut instinct that's never steered me wrong before."

They faced off a moment until Anna nodded. "Then we'll both pursue our leads for what they are and the evidence will out."

"It usually does." John paused, "Did you feel I was undercutting you out of spite or a need to be superior?"

"Why would you think that thought entered my mind?"

"Gut instinct."

Anna took a deep breath, "You're not wrong. Experience has taught me to immediately suspect those who assert their position over mine as those threatened by me theories."

"Doctor I would never-"

"Detective," Anna put up a hand to stop him, "If I wanted to say I felt you did so, I would've said. I don't think that was your intention or even your desire. All I know is my experience and I can only ask you be mindful of that in the future."

"That I can do Doctor." John went to turn and almost ran into Bertie, waiting for them to finish their conversation. "Mr. Pelham, it's good to see you."

"I hope so." He extracted a file from his stack and passed it over, "Between the work of your officers and my filing system, I finally found a woman who I think might've been the first."

"What leads you to that conclusion Mr. Pelham?" Anna stepped forward and Bertie nodded at her.

"I hope I didn't overstep my bounds when I say I made a sort of graph, tracing the timeline of the attacks." Bertie led them back to John's office, pointing to his work on the board. "Skill is developed over time. They say an expert is someone who spends ten thousand hours at something so we could assert that even our deranged killer has been perfecting and honing his skills."

"There is a logic to even the most broken of minds." Anna walked to the board, tracing the timeline backwards, "So you think you found our victim zero?"

"I believe I did." Bertie opened the file, setting the others on John's desk, "A Ms. Lavinia Swire. Not a prostitute like the others but she is from a lower income family and would be what I'd call a disadvantaged individual."

"Five Pointer?"

"Hell's Kitchen." Bertie read from the sheet, "She worked in a shop near the brothels and had a small flat nearby. According to the report she was walking down the street where prostitutes frequently parade and was attacked in the alley. She survived a surprise attack but suffered a head injury. Her records show she's been in and out of treatment by hospital and asylum ever since. The doctors believed it was the result of the knock to the head: permanent damage."

"Sounds like the victim of a first run." Anna held out her hand and took the folder, "I'd want to move her to my Institute as soon as possible to see to her condition."

"She's currently in hospital." Bertie made an approving sound, "From the records she's at the same hospital where Chief Crawley's youngest daughter works. You could get a better assessment of her needs and perhaps interview her there."

"Thank you, Mr. Pelham," Anna took a step toward the door and then looked down at her clothes. "I think the Detective and I have to deal with something else first."

John sniffed his own clothes, "She's right." He extended a hand toward Bertie and then withdrew it, "Thank you, Mr. Pelham. You've been more helpful than you know. If I were cleaner I'd offer you my hand."

"And I'd take it, Detective Bates, but I'm just doing my job." Bertie nodded at them as John followed Anna out the door.

"Since the hospital is in Five Points perhaps we should travel there together." John suggested as Anna climbed into a cab.

"I'll meet you at your flat in an hour, Detective." Anna shut the door, leaning out toward him, "I think we need to go where we clean ourselves and then wear our own clothes. Much as I enjoyed the idea that we could share your basin bathtub."

"Maybe next time we should share your tub again."

"It's a thought. I'll see you in an hour Detective."

John smiled to himself and hailed a cab as Anna's drove away.

Within an hour John and Anna wove their way through the squashed neighborhoods toward the hospital. John stopped, waiting for traffic to pass, and noticed Anna sniffing at him. "Something off to you Doctor?"

"Are you wearing cologne?" Anna took another whiff, "I don't remember smelling that on you before."

"You didn't." John dipped to whisper in her ear, "But I'd let you have a taste of it later."

"I find that skin to skin contact tends to rub scent from one person to the other… so maybe I'll get some for myself?" Anna winked at him and crossed the street into the hospital.

Anna spoke to the head nurse as John took stock of the building. Cracks in the ceiling, chipped and faded paint, creaking boards that bent under his weight, and even doors only closed with forced shoulders or sharp tugs. He shook his head, "And people wonder why we believe doctors are still bone men. Conditions like this would frighten a full-grown man, not to mention a child."

"This is why I support Sybil's work here."

"You do what?"

"I'm a patron of this hospital." Anna shrugged as John turned to her. "Did you know over five thousand people died every year of the tuberculosis epidemic that began in '81?"

"I'd heard it took many lives."

"Mostly the poor and forgotten." Anna shook her head, "They try to say it's over and we've no more reason to worry but the truth is the scourge only slowed. It may even be restrained but as long as people live in these horrid conditions without a soul to care for them such plagues will never be stopped."

"Sometimes I worry Doctor that you'd heart is too big for what you do."

"How'd you mean?"

"You're born for a time when creatures of mercy can see the results of their labors in abundance." John gestured to the building, "Not for the times when it would appear like drops in the ocean."

"Every drop forms a ripple." Anna smiled and waved to a dark-haired nurse approaching them, "We all lift the lamps we can to give the light we have to the world while praying it guides even one soul to salvation."

John had no opportunity to respond as the nurse greeted them both. Her eyes had the same bright warmth Anna's did, though a lighter shade of blue. With the shape of her chin and the curve of her forehead John saw Chief Crawley in those features.

"It's a pleasure to have you back Doctor Smith." She shook Anna's hand, "And you've brought someone new along. Not a patient I hope."

"Detective John Bates." John shook her hand, "I'm here on business."

"Sybil Crawley and I'm glad." Sybil sighed, "We wouldn't have a bed for you anyway."

"We've actually arrived to hopefully empty one of those beds." Anna drew Sybil over to the side, "A Ms. Lavinia Swire."

"Has she done something wrong?"

"We're here about what's been done to her."

Sybil nodded, "I'll take you to Matron and Doctor Clarkson. They've been treating her and I think they'll give you a better feeling as to her needs and condition."

Sybil escorted them to an office where a man with white hair and matching mustache debated with an older woman over a few documents. They turned their heads up at the knock on the door and Sybil pointed to John and Anna. "Doctor Clarkson, Matron, this is Detective Bates and Doctor Smith."

"We know Doctor Smith very well," Doctor Clarkson stepped forward, shaking Anna's hand. "We're always honored to work with you."

"Thank you." Anna shook the woman's hand, "And how are you Nurse Crawley?"

"Better if the city would grant us even half the funding they've given Bellevue." She turned to John, "And might I ask what a detective of the New York City Police needs from us?"

"An interview with one of your patients. Ms. Lavinia Swire."

Doctor Clarkson flexed his jaw, "Ms. Swire is in a delicate position."

"We've been apprised of her medical history, in broad strokes." Anna spread her hands, "I want to assess her and perhaps submit her for more specialized treatment under my direct care."

"And in other circumstances I'd approve such an event but Ms. Swire is incredibly ill and highly contagious."

"What does she have Doctor?" Anna revolved her gaze between Doctor Clarkson and Nurse Crawley.

Nurse Crawley answered, "She's infected with tuberculosis. We've sequestered her to quarantine but I don't think she'll last a week."

"Then it's all the more important we speak to her immediately." John stepped forward, "She's possibly the first victim of a man we believe has escalated from attacking women to murdering them."

"The same one killing those poor prostitutes?" Doctor Clarkson shook his head, "I don't know what you think of Ms. Swire Detective but she's-"

"We don't think she's a prostitute." Anna interjected, "We think she was the start of a pattern of depravity that escalated to the slaughter of those poor women."

"If you speak to her you do so at your own risk." Nurse Crawley warned.

John looked down at Anna. When she nodded back he faced them, "We understand."

Nurse Crawley escorted them to the room and handed both white scarves to tie around their faces. "I'd try to stay at least three feet away. She dissolves into hacking coughs and we don't want to risk it."

"Understood," John's voice muffled through the cloth, "How conscious has she been?"

"She'll have fainting spells but they come and go. Don't try to upset her too much or you might lose her."

Anna sighed, "If only we came to speak about happier things because I'm afraid what we're asking about could upset her very much."

Nurse Crawley opened the door and walked into the room with them. A woman with reddish hair tried to lift herself from the bed but Anna immediately put a hand out toward her.

"Please, Ms. Swire, don't trouble yourself to sit up." She pulled a chair within a few feet of her, "I'm Doctor Anna Smith."

"I've heard of you." Ms. Swire coughed into a handkerchief and John noted the red tinge there. "You deal with the insane."

"I help those who suffer afflictions of the mind." Anna put a hand on Ms. Swire's. "From what I hear, you suffered trauma that may've affected you in a way that I can help you learn how to manage."

"Are you saying you can cure me?"

"I'm saying I could help you learn to work past your affliction. I could help you heal your mind." Anna turned up to John, "This is Detective Bates and he's here to talk about your case."

"Case?"

"When you were attacked, Ms. Swire," John sat on the end of the bed, "We believe the monster that did that to you didn't make you his only victim."

"It wasn't my fault." Ms. Swire started shaking her head and John caught the fear that tinged Nurse Crawley's eyes. "I didn't do anything to-"

"Ms. Swire," Anna's easy voice cut through the mounting terror in Ms. Swire's, "That's not why we're here. We believe you suffered greatly because of the actions of another. It was not, in any way, your fault."

"Then why question me?"

Anna snuck a look at John before he nodded for her to answer, "Because you telling us about your experience could help us stop others from suffering as greatly."

"Others?"

"He's murdered four women so far." John bit the inside of his cheek, "We fear he might kill more."

"Why?"

"We've only theories at this point, Ms. Swire, but what we've gathered is he's a man searching for power at the cost of others." John tried to help her refocus, "What do you remember about him?"

"Nothing." Ms. Swire shook her head, "It was dark and I was so terrified I closed my eyes."

Tears started to leak from her eyes but Anna smoothed her hand over Ms. Swire's, "It's perfectly fine, Ms. Swire. We're here because we want to help you. If you can help us that's merely an added bonus. Trying to shut out the terror is a natural response and may've saved your life."

"Saved me for this?" She bitterly gestured to the room around her, "He ruined me forever."

"Then help us find him to stop him. What can you tell us about what happened?" John kept his voice level, maintaining comforting tone.

"He grabbed me from behind." Ms. Swire dissolved into coughs and tried to breathe, the rasping sounds grating on John's ears and making him shiver slightly as he recognized he was watching someone die before him. "He was strong and slightly taller than me."

"How could you tell?"

"His position when… when-" She broke down into tears and John shook his head at Anna.

"Ms. Swire you've done us an incredible service." Anna gathered her breath, "When you're better I'm going to transfer you to my Institute so we can help you recover."

"But I'll never get better, Doctor." Another raspy breath echoed in the throat of the woman too young to have suffered so much. "I'm dying."

"You're strong, Ms. Swire. You'll pull through this."

"It's better this way, Doctor." Ms. Swire, "If I die then I don't have to hear his voice in my nightmares anymore."

"His voice?"

"He sounded so normal. Like any person you might meet on the street. Right before he-" She shook her head, "I'll never forget the sound of his voice."

"Thank you, for your help Ms. Swire."

"For whatever help it was to you I hope you find him Detective. And kill him."

John and Anna looked at one another before they left the room. In the hallway they untied the bindings from around their faces and folded them into a container for soiled cloths. John removed his hat to run his fingers through his hair.

"Taller than her… all of our suspects are taller than her."

"Senator Crowborough might not be."

"Only because he hunches over his walking stick." John paced the hall a moment, "That poor girl suffered as she did and we're no closer to discovering anything about this killer. We had her remember a horrible incident for nothing."

"It wasn't nothing because we did discover something." Anna pointed back toward the room, "His obsession with me wasn't the reason for his first attack."

"Because Ms. Swire doesn't look like you?"

"She was a crime of opportunity. He used her to decide if he could. His success proved he could do it and began his spree."

"You're saying if he'd failed we might never have those dead bodies?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Anna frowned and turned down the hallway as loud noises echoed toward them.

John led the way toward the entrance and saw Sybil, almost frantic, speaking to William and James. Tapping Sybil on the shoulder John pointed outside, "What's going on?"

"They heard that you were here interviewing a patient and it's turned to madness Detective."

"What?"

William spoke up, "The people've heard there's a killer on the loose and that their daughters are being killed."

"I thought they didn't like the professions their daughters chose." Anna risked a look through the doors and flinched back when a rock hit one of the windows. Another nurse screamed and everyone ducked as more missiles shattered the glass in the other stained windows.

John ushered everyone into the hall as Nurse Crawley and Doctor Clarkson came running down the hall. "What's going on?"

"There's a mob outside." John turned to William and James, "We need to go and resolve this peacefully before anyone gets hurt."

"Or more hurt," James pointed to Sybil. John turned and saw Anna holding Sybil's apron to a cut on Sybil's head.

"Right, this stops now." John walked toward the door, pulling up his coat and ducked behind it to block any shards of glass still spraying the room.

He pushed through the door and heard the mob quiet a moment. John dropped the edge of his coat and pointed at the hospital. "There are sick people in there who need the services you're disrupting by being here. Go home and leave them be."

"And who's going to protect us in our homes?" Someone shouted and a few voices from the crowd cried out in affirmation. "There's a killer on the loose slaughtering our daughters and you're doing nothing about it but plaguing the sick with your pointless questions."

"Interviewing someone who potentially saw the killer is not pointless." John stopped himself, "We're doing everything we can to find the killer."

"That's not what Mr. Carlisle says."

"Mr. Carlisle?"

"He says you're going to let him keep killing to 'thin the herd'."

John clenched his jaw, "If that's what Mr. Carlisle thinks then he's more than welcome to come to my office and discuss it. Not gather a mob to riot outside a hospital providing necessary services to those in need."

"We don't need your services."

The rock hurtled through the air and John dodged to the side. But William, standing just behind him, did not. The rock struck him and William staggered back onto the steps. John rushed to his side as William tried to keep his eyes open, blinking furiously while the gash on this head spurted blood. Tearing through his pockets John found a handkerchief and held it to William's bleeding head.

"Officer Kent, please get him inside." John moved William to James's grip and watched him carry William back inside the hospital. Turning back to the crowd John growled at them, "Who's next? Who wants to throw another rock and hit me? Who wants to injure those fighting for you, working to protect you?"

The crowd quieted, shifting and murmuring to themselves. John shook his head, "Go home. And whatever coward threw the rock, that boy's life is on your conscience and I hope you can stand before God knowing that."

"You're the ones suppressing information when we should be protecting ourselves."

"Then take up the problem with Mr. Carlisle." John shouted, "He's the one who wants to raze your houses, drive you out, and destroy your families. He's the one who sends his men to lure your daughters to prostitution and then robs you blind as your slum lord. If you want to protect yourselves then fight him, not those trying to help you."

John walked back into the hospital and saw Anna wringing her hands. He put a hand on her arm, "What's wrong?"

"Officer Mason…" She swallowed, "He passed."

"What?"

"He's dead, John."

"What about Sybil?"

"She's fine." Anna shook her head, "What are we going to do John? This city's ready to explode over this."

"We keep on. That's all we can do." John shook his head, "And pray we find this killer before everyone else dissolves to killing each other before he can."


	13. Beside the Golden Door

John pulled his tie tight and sighed at the image in the mirror over his washbasin. Meeting his own gaze in the mirror John's jaw set but his fingers quivered when reaching for his jacket. He tightened his fist, breathing in a moment before pulling the jacket over his shoulders and unhooking his coat from its place by the door.

The cab stopped outside Anna's house and he warned the driver to wait as he ascended the steps to pull on her doorbell. It only took a moment for Anna to appear, dressed in black and buttoning her own coat. John offered her his arm and they descended into the carriage, giving the driver directions to the cemetery.

John faced Anna, sitting with her back to the driver, and gestured toward the window. "Will our killer take umbrage at my accompanying you to a funeral?"

"At this point I think we're evenly matched in what we know about our killer so I think you've answered that question for yourself already."

"I figured it might dispel the gloom if we spoke about something else."

"Like our being possibly stalked by a killer?"

"Something along those lines, yes."

Anna peaked out the window, "My own belief is that there will be some anger but their own moral compass will fight the instinct. You escorting me to a grave shouldn't be a problem. This is a killer who recompenses the families of the dead so not everything inside them is rotten."

"Which would further explain why none of them would speak to us." Anna raised an eyebrow, "If they thought the money was contingent on their silence they wouldn't risk their delicate change of fortune to tell us about children they hadn't seen in years."

"Their receipt contingent upon silence?"

"We saw what happened when Mrs. Shackleton spoke to us." John took a deep breath, "I don't think we'll get anymore answers from the families. Not with a sniper waiting on their rooftops to send a bullet their way at the smallest sign of dissent."

Anna nodded and they sat in silence a moment before she spoke again. "Despite the questionable morality of a killer that sends a sniper to do their dirty work, I did notice someone skulking outside my house last night and yesterday, at the Institute."

"Did you see who?"

Anna shook her head, "All I could tell is, whoever it is, they're shorter than Thomas."

"Then it's not Carlisle keeping his hawk eye on us."

Anna snorted, "After your speech the other day I'm not surprised. He's been up to his ears in troubles since the people decided they'll rise against their self-appointed lord."

"Doesn't mean good things for us? To incite an enemy in Carlisle?"

"We're strong enough for Carlisle."

"What about Crowborough?"

"What about him?"

John adjusted in his seat, "He has the resources to keep someone watching us round the clock. And if Carlisle has his ear then us going after Carlisle could burn us with Crowborough."

"Have you noticed two shadows lately?"

"A few times but since I spend most of my time around police stations someone stalking my every step steps a little more lightly around me." John sighed, "I just wish I knew why they wanted to follow us but not engage. This game of cat and mouse wears at my nerves."

"Didn't you fight guerilla warfare in the west?"

"Not like this and when we did we weren't good at it." John huffed, "I can't stand the waiting. If they're going to attack I wish they'd just do it."

Anna snorted and John looked over as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand to keep her chuckles to herself. "Something funny Doctor?"

"Just," She tried to even her breathing, batting her hands near her eyes to keep any escaping tears from falling down her cheeks. "I was thinking about a chance to test your patience where you might not mind."

John grinned at her, "Not an entirely appropriate suggestion, Doctor and I believe that sort of talk might be beneath you."

"I stand corrected," She snickered again, "But I'm still interested in what I could do to increase your capacity for patience."

"As am I but now's not the time for those sorts of discussions."

"You're right," Anna tried to keep a straight face, "Best save it for the bedroom… where I intend to have my way with you."

John shook his head at her, the smirk plastered over her face.

They arrived in a line of carriages with everyone else and John led Anna to her seat before joining the other officers standing at attention near the coffin. An older man cried over the coffin, holding tightly to the hand of the server John recognized from the lunch he and Anna shared at Mrs. Patmore's restaurant. The girl brought a handkerchief to her eyes, dabbing at them, and tried not to cry too loudly as the pastor read the eulogy.

John kept his gaze forward, watching the crowd gathered for the funeral. He squinted in the light, scanning the gray-brown around them for signs of someone out of place. But there was no one with a dry eye or a twitch among them.

At the conclusion of the service John walked up to the girl and old man standing by the coffin. He took the girl's hand in his, "I'm so sorry for what happened to William. I should've warned him to duck but it all happened so quickly."

"William always were the first to step in and do something noble." She attempted a smile but had to use her shaking hand to wipe tears away from her face. "He liked you, Detective. Thought you were a good man."

"He was a better man than me." John shook the man's hand, "Your son did you proud sir."

"He did everyone proud."

John broke his grip and walked back toward the line of carriages, Anna falling into step with him. After a moment she leaned toward him, "I've been thinking about something."

"The funeral?"

"The murders." John opened the door and Anna climbed in, waiting for John to join her before continuing. "Mr. Pelham created that timeline with those whose attacks fit a period of escalation that would account for someone exposing their dark side to the world."

"What about it?"

"I think we've forgotten potential victims."

"We have?"

Anna took a deep breath, as if bolstering herself for the theory she was about to posit, "We've only thought about those who can speak about what happened to them, those who went for help… no matter if they received it or not, and forgot about those who can't speak."

"How'd you mean?"

"I work with those society deems mentally deficient and incompetent. Since they've already been labeled in such a way that destroys their credibility anything they say is suspect and usually disregarded."

"You think our killer changed course after Ms. Swire and went for the insane?"

"We've been thinking our killer only attacks prostitutes because they feed the moralistic side of his attacks. They create a sense of justice to his actions because riding society of another whore, to him, is a mercy for them and for all."

"Ms. Swire breaks that perception, is that what put you on to this?"

"Partly," Anna nodded, "The commonality, including Ms. Swire as our victim zero, is that these are members of a disenfranchised class. They've all been forgotten by the upper echelons of society and so are prime for the picking."

"I thought we were under the impression that his shift from Ms. Swire to the prostitutes was because he gained his courage."

"But Ms. Swire reported the attack. Even if she saw nothing of her attacker, how was he to know?" Anna snapped her fingers, "But the spark was already ignited. He knew he could do it but he needed to be careful about how he did it. If he moved to the shadows for a time, waited for the noise to die, then he could build his skills on those who had no power to fight back."

"We're talking about someone with access to those who can't speak about it or, if they did, wouldn't be believed."

"Tell me, Detective, how many ravings have you believed when you've walked down the line of cells in a prison?"

"Less than you probably do when you make the same walk down a line of rooms at an asylum."

"Exactly." Anna lifted her hands, palms toward him, "We hadn't considered that moving to the streets to even rape those prostitutes was a dramatic escalation because we assumed he was already ready for it."

"He crawled from his hole to the gutter instead of the other way around. But it meant he was ready to move to the open, risk getting caught." John chewed on his lip, "Why risk it?"

"There's a delicious sensation to the secretive and forbidden, Detective." Anna eyed John, "Even more so when the risk of getting caught is so great."

"Behave," John held up a warning finger and then lowered it, a thought coming to his mind, "He reduces the risk if those he attacks may not even be fit to stand trial."

"He's careful."

"Then we've got to be even more careful." John paused, "How do we even question those whose mental competence is in question?"

"Very carefully."

"That's your answer?"

Anna pointed to John, "How do you question those who sit in prison?"

"Even more carefully." Anna gave a satisfied huff and folded her arms. John conceded the point and scratched at his head, "It still strains credulity."

"We've had the discussion about differences in justification."

"It's not that."

"Then what?"

"That he chose Ms. Swire as the first still troubles me. She was neither a prostitute nor mentally incompetent. Poor and struggling, of course, but she had a job and a life. Unlike the others she seemed more put together than the others." John lifted his hands, "Why attack her?"

"If he already visited the brothels than he would see her sometimes. He would know her face and aspects of her life." Anna paused, "Maybe it was jealousy. Given the little she had she seemed contented while he was unhappy with his excess. He spent it on prostitutes and debauchery and she was trying to make a life for herself."

"It might explain his need to compensate those he injured afterward." John shrugged, "If he saw himself as a disgusting creature for hurting that innocent girl then he could believe he needed to slink to the shadows. There, in the prisons and asylums, he would find the most despicable and take his needs out on them."

"Sparking his desire to turn his depravity on those he considered more depraved than himself?" Anna held up a hand, "But those already incarcerated have met their justice so he chooses to go to the streets to seek those the law has yet to reach. To enact his mercy and punishment like a benevolent god."

"No god I'd ever worship."

"Nor I." Anna nodded her head, almost speaking to herself, "He hates himself for what he is, has since he acted on the impulse to attack Ms. Swire. But he gluts himself on the moment of the kill and the idea that perhaps his actions bring a twisted good."

"He's certainly a piece of work."

"And I know just who we can consult about this." Anna tapped the roof and called out, "Change of plans driver, take us to Bellevue Hospital."

John put his hand to the side at the tight turn, "What's at Bellevue?"

"Doctor Green." Anna folded her arms, "But more importantly the largest collection of women suffering mental affliction. There's one woman there, someone Phyllis told me about. I interviewed her for treatment at the start of her incarceration but there was nothing I could do to help her. Her mind was so fragile none of my methods would have any effect."

"What happened to her?"

"She was arrested for a small infraction and then suffered some cruelty in prison from the guards. By the time doctors got to her she was delirious and her mind had already fractured. Phyllis shared a room with her while awaiting her own trial."

"Why would Ms. Baxter think to tell us about this woman?"

"When I was reviewing my notes about the case last night she suggested that the kind of women who were most susceptible were those forgotten."

John smiled, "Hence your revelation today?"

Anna nodded, "It did help put my mind on the subject."

"And we'll interview her? This acquaintance of Ms. Baxter's?"

"As best we can." Anna closed her eyes, "I don't know how much farther her mind's lost itself since I spoke with her."

"The worst part is that the loss of her mind isn't even the worst part of this investigation."

"There is a darkness here that makes all others fade to gray does it not?" Anna leaned her head back against the seat, "It used to be enough for this man to rape them. Then he wanted to beat them. Then, after the first murder, he realized where the real power lie: holding life and death in your hands."

John waited a moment, "Does it defy even your comprehension?"

Anna opened her eyes to look at John, "I've studied the mind for years, Detective. I've watched people as part of my need to understand how they think and there are two things I've learned. First, that no two people are alike. Second, people will constantly surprise you and that's not always a good thing."

"But that applies to humans and he's not human any longer. For as much as the mask he wears wishes to tell us otherwise."

"How'd you mean?"

"Humans don't seek out the kill like this. Predators do, animals do."

"Are you saying animals murder one another?"

John nodded, "In the right circumstances there are animals who resort to cannibalism to survive. They get a taste of their own kind and seek them out. At that point there is nothing to be done because they've turned rabid and will destroy all in their path."

"I guess we need to find our rabid animal then."

The carriage rocked them to the gates of Bellevue Hospital, the driver skittish as John paid him for his services for the morning. Once the carriage was away, as fast as the driver could get his horse to move, John turned to gaze up at the building, He tipped his hat back to shade his eyes. "Rather extravagant, isn't it? All those levels and this gate… makes one feel exceedingly official."

"It's a multileveled and gated because it's basically a prison, Detective." Anna shivered, "I hate coming here."

"I thought you lived to help those in need."

"I do, but this," Anna shook her head, "It's oppressive."

"The building?"

"The despair." Anna waved her hand at the building, "Those here have already thrown themselves to the abyss of wretchedness. All the gate is missing, under the name, is the phrase Dante saw written over the gates to Hell."

"Abandon all hope ye who enter here?"

"That's it."

"Let's not abandon our hope just yet." John pointed a finger at the front door through the gates, "In there could be the tools to our salvation, despite the misery."

"You're unusually optimistic."

"One of us should be." John pushed at the gates and they walked the pavement to the front doors.

Unlike the hospital in Five Points this place shined. The halls smelled of cleaners with the undercurrent of more fetid human scents. John scrunched his nose at it while Anna consulted with the matron at the front desk. He paced the entrance while they spoke but immediately stiffened when Green appeared.

"Doctor Smith, what an unexpected surprise." Anna put her hand forward to shake but Green took it to his mouth, kissing there. "What brings you to my side of the city?"

"We're hoping to interview one of your patients, a Ms. Denker." Anna took her hand back and John bristled at how close Green stood to her, "We believe she could help us with something."

"A paper you're writing?"

"Actually, an investigation."

"Oh?" Green smiled but John sensed the condescension in the action, "Taking work from the police are you?"

"As it happens Detective Bates and I are operating jointly on this investigation." Anna pointed to John as he stepped forward, seizing Green's hand in a crushing grip. "You met him at the Blakes's party last week."

"You didn't introduce him as a detective." Green extracted his hand, massaging it but striving to make it appear nonchalant. John suppressed a satisfied smirk. "I thought he was your patient."

"I'm sorry for the deception. We didn't want to stir any pots since we'd gotten on the wrong side of Mr. Carlisle just the day before. Bringing attention to Detective Bates's profession would be counterproductive to the purpose of the evening."

"I see," Green nodded slowly, "What could you ever have done to rile Mr. Carlisle?"

"Our jobs. It's a disruption to his vice-filled businesses." John answered and Green only flicked his eyes toward him a moment, keeping all focus on Anna.

"It's disgusting, the work he does." He paused, "But, moving to less weighty topics, Doctor why are you dressed all in black? It's not your color and with spring coming I'd think you'd choose a lighter palate to accentuate your eyes."

"There was a funeral today." Anna narrowed her eyes when Green appeared unaffected, "Officer Mason died in the line of duty defending a hospital in Five Points from a mob. Perhaps you heard about it."

"I did read something by your friend, Mr. Branson, about it. Noble effort, to be sure, but the poor boy would've been better to let the hospital suffer the wrath of the mob." Green scoffed, "Five Points is as much a blight on our city as any gutter or rampaging disease."

"Perhaps you and Mr. Carlisle have more in common than you realize, Doctor Green." John pointed to the hall, "And Officer Mason died honorably doing his duty."

"Of that I've no doubt. The young and naïve always die nobly." Green led them into the hall, "He just died defending the wrong ideal."

"Should he have died defending something else instead?"

"Don't think me rude Detective," Green put out a hand, "But I work every day with mental afflictions. In my not so limited experience, the poor are a sickness as great as any disease man can suffer to his body or mind. They're a canker on society."

"Not all people can be rich."

"But they can be less poor." Green stepped to the side and opened his arm toward a hallway, "Ms. Denker's door is just up here. Though she's been absolutely intolerable of late, raving more than usual. We had to put her in a straitjacket."

"We'll be careful." Anna started off down the hall.

John shot Green one final look before the doctor joined him, following Anna down the hall. They kept a pace back as Anna counted the doors. John leaned over to Green, enjoying how the man cowered slightly under his presence, "You seem to run a tight ship here Doctor."

"One always can when they know how to use the stick and the carrot in equal measure. That's something one learns in the halls of academia I'm not sure anyone learns on the street."

John rolled his shoulders, the ire rising with his hackles, "You're very smug about your position."

"I'm entitled to be."

"Because you worked hard to be where you are?"

"Yes. It's also a nature of my class."

"And you share their confused ideals?"

Green stopped, "You weren't born to privilege, were you Mr. Bates?"

"It's 'Detective' and no, I was not."

Green snuck a look at Anna, "Neither was Doctor Smith but she's learned about the obligations and duties of the sphere she now inhabits."

"She's nothing like you."

"I didn't say she was. But it'd be easier on her if she were." Green walked toward the door, pulling his keys from his belt.

Anna put a hand on John's arm and he bent to hear as she whispered to him, "I need your absolute trust in that room."

"Of course."

"I'm serious John, we don't know the mental state of this woman. I'd rather not spook her to silence before we even begin and that means you must give me the latitude I need to do my work."

"I won't stand in your way."

"It's not that," Anna sucked the inside of her cheek, "Those suffering in the darkness of their mind don't always respond to reason like you and I do."

"You've mentioned that their logic won't make sense to us."

"It won't but we'll see what we can decipher from what she gives us anyway. Just be careful and trust my instincts on this." Anna walked forward as Green stepped back, holding the door open so they could enter the room.

An older woman rocked herself on the bed, her arms bound to her chest by the straps of the straitjacket. Anna went forward and John stopped himself putting a hand out to stop her. When she reached the bed Anna dragged the only chair in the room near the bed to sit facing the woman.

"Ms. Denker?" The woman did not respond. "Ms. Denker I'm Doctor Smith. I'm here to ask you about a woman you knew some time ago. Phyllis Baxter."

Ms. Denker blinked at Anna and then surged toward her. John went to protect Anna but immediately dropped his jaw when Green leapt forward, swinging a small rod from his belt. He beat at Ms. Denker with it, raining the blows on her shoulders and arms. When the woman seemed to freeze Green pulled a syringe from his coat and plunged it into Denker's neck. She snapped at him but he beat her again, not ceasing until the syringe was empty.

Ms. Denker's whole body went lax and Green stepped back, smling to himself. As Green went to walk back to his position John grabbed him by the lapels, throwing him into the wall. "Why'd you do that?"

"She was going to attack Doctor Smith."

"I was fine," Anna soothed and waved at them, checking Ms. Denker, "If you're both going to be violent then you can leave. She needs peace and quiet to feel comfortable. And, if we can, I'd like to have her out of this medieval device."

"She scratched two orderlies just yesterday," Green shook his head as John lowered him to the floor, pulling at his coat, "The jacket stays. And that's why I used the sedative, she'll be more compliant."

"Then you be more compliant and stay in the corner," Anna pointed and waited until Green slunk there before turning back to Ms. Denker, "I'm sorry about that Ms. Denker."

Ms. Denker mumbled something and Anna leaned forward, "What was that?"

"It's fine." John barely made out the words.

"Do you remember Phyllis, Ms. Denker? Phyllis Baxter. She shared a room with you for a time while she awaited her trial." Ms. Denker nodded and Anna smiled at her, moving a little closer. "Now I wish we could remove this jacket but it seems you've taken to scratching at people lately. As it is, I'm going to ask you a few simple questions. Just answer with a nod for 'yes' and a shake for 'no'. Can you do that?"

Denker nodded and John moved himself to the end of the bed. Denker shrank back from him and hissed. John stepped back in surprise and Anna held a hand at him. "Detective I think you'd better stay back. She'll be more comfortable with just me."

"And if I have questions?"

"I'll ask them." John conceded and went to take the corner but Anna stopped him, "Stay in her line of sight. We don't want her worried about where you are."

John stood behind Anna's chair while Denker watched him with squinted eyes. He turned when he heard Green snort in the corner of the room. "If you've something to say, Doctor Green, I'd suggest you not keep it to yourself."

"It's just," Green waved his hand at Anna, still speaking softly with Denker, "The idea of trying to find the rational mind when it shattered is laughable. I think Doctor Smith endeavors on a pitiful mission since she's as naïve about the way to respond to people in this condition now as she was when we were in school. You can't reason with those who have no reason."

"Doctor Smith treats them as though they're still people, Doctor." John folded his arms, "Is that what bothers you?"

"Yes, because they're not people. Not anymore. They're animals; responding only to the most basic of their instincts and nothing else."

"She disagrees."

"Then she's a fool."

"Gentlemen," Anna stood, "As wonderful as I'm sure your discussion is I need you both to leave. You're distracting Ms. Denker and we're trying to have a discussion."

"Leaving you alone would be unwise." Green asserted but Anna pointed to the door.

"Out. Now."

John went to the door, pushing it open. He watched Green pause and then follow. Pulling the door almost all the way closed John kept himself close as Green tossed his hands in the air.

"There's no mind left in that woman. She's beyond saving."

"No one is in that dire of straits, Doctor."

Green huffed and waved his hand at the door, "If you want to follow her insanity to the end point you stay and waste your time. I've work to do."

John watched him walk down the hallway and shook his head. Peeking in the room he saw Anna in deep discussion with Ms. Denker. With a sigh he started pacing the small section of hallway, counting his steps as he thought over the details of the case.

A few minutes later Anna emerged from the room and gestured for John to join her in the doorway. "Ms. Denker has something she wants to tell you."

"What?" John followed Anna inside and noted the difference in Ms. Denker's behavior. He took Anna's chair and held his open hands toward Denker, "What is it Ms. Denker?"

"Are you a policeman?"

"Yes."

"Then can you get me out of here?"

John turned to Anna, who only nodded, "Doctor Smith is the best person to ask about that."

"They hurt me, Detective."

"Who?" Ms. Denker looked at the bed, refusing to answer so John leaned forward, trying another question, "How do they hurt you?"

"They beat me, abuse me, and… and-" She shook her head, tears coming to her eyes. "I can't stay here."

"Is that the real reason you're in the jacket Ms. Denker?"

"I fought them." Her eyes went wide, "The voices told me to fight back. Others screamed not to, said I would risk too much, said I should take it but I fought and now they trap me. They trap me so I can't fight."

"I understand." John cleared his throat, "Who hurts you?"

"It's always dark. I don't know who. They don't talk. They make sure I can't see their faces."

"How often?"

"I don't know the days anymore."

"Is it one person or more than one?"

"I can't tell anymore." Ms. Denker's voice sounded on the verge of tears, "They're all monsters and nightmares in the dark to me."

"Alright," John risked a hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her. The woman froze under his touch and John removed his hand immediately, "I'm sorry for the questions. There aren't anymore."

"Can you help me?"

John risked a look to Anna at the door, "I'll need to speak with Doctor Smith and we'll see what we can do. Is that alright?" Ms. Denker nodded and John stood, "One minute Ms. Denker."

They stepped into the hall and John put his hands on his hips, sighing, "It's Blackwell Island here for her. I would've thought that Nellie Bly put a stop to those sorts of things."

"Unfortunately, for all the good work Ms. Cochran did it's never enough to stop the misery that others seek to cause on those who can't fight back." Anna shook her head, looking over the hospital, "I need to move her immediately. She can be healed, fully and completely, if I could get her under my care and supervision."

"Why now and not before?"

"The mind's a funny thing. She's obviously schizophrenic, hearing the voices, but now she can separate them in a way she couldn't the last time I met with her."

"But what about those abusing her?"

"If I could get her in a session I could probably help her see a face or identify something to help us find her attackers."

"That's go-" John stopped and listened. He pushed back into Ms. Denker's room and saw her foaming at the mouth, thrashing on the bed. John grabbed for her, saving the woman from hitting her head on the floor.

Anna shouted down the hall and three orderlies rushed into the room. They took her from him and tried to extract her from the jacket. But John saw the droop of her mouth, the way her eyes dilated, and the settling spasms of her body. He picked himself off the floor and went to Anna as Green came through the door.

After checking Ms. Denker's pulse Green stepped back, wiping his hand with a handkerchief, "She's dead."

"From what? A moment ago she was speaking as clearly to me as I am to you." John used his whole hand to gesture to the body on the floor, "What happened?"

"I'd need an autopsy for that, Detective. I'm a doctor of the mind, not the body." Green looked him up and down, "Perhaps something you said broke her."

"Or someone working here did." John stepped toward him, "This woman was beaten and abused in your care, Doctor."

"One uses pain to encourage animals to do what they're told."

"She wasn't an animal."

"I'm sorry," Green cocked his head to the side, "I don't remember hearing about your credentials to make that kind of judgment about my patient."

"But you've seen mine," Anna joined them, "She could have been healed."

"That's overly optimistic and childishly simplistic."

"The hallmark of my work, Doctor." Anna shook her head, "Have her body sent to Dr. Moseley at the city morgue please. I want to see her autopsy."

"We're at your service Doctor." Green pointed to the door, "Now, if you could leave us to our work."

They left the hospital, John shaking and trying not to fume. Anna hailed a cab for them and they rode in silence to her home. John asked the driver to wait and accompanied her to her door.

"A rather eventful day, as they go Detective." Anna turned to John in the doorway, not moving to open the door.

"I don't know, we weren't shot at, chased, or ambushed today so I'd call it quiet by comparison. We only watched a woman in a nutter center die in front of us after she pleaded for our help."

"Such is the life we lead."

"Yes, for these kind of boring days."

"I think perhaps the boring days are few and far between until we solve this case." Anna shifted her weight, "But that shouldn't stop us."

"Stop us from what?"

"From being with one another."

"Is that an invitation Doctor?" John grinned and Anna shrugged a shoulder.

"After a fashion." She took his hand, "But I meant something more permanent."

"More permanent?" John frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I've something to say and you're not going to like it."

"I won't?"

"Definitely not." Anna gripped his hand in hers, "We're going to get married."

"What?"

"We're going to get married."

John spluttered, "I don't think now is the right time"

"Why not?"

"Other than the killer on the loose obsessed with you?"

"Other than that."

"That he's sending people to watch us and kill those we talk to."

"Other than that."

"We're in a professional working relationship, Doctor."

Anna laughed, "John, we crossed the line of professionalism quite some time ago so don't use my salutation as a weapon because it holds no power over me."

"Why not?"

"Because our breach of professionalism hasn't been a problem thus far. If anything we're more synchronized now."

"Then, what about mentioning how we barely know one another."

"We're of the same mind, John. Forged from the same materials. I'd even like to thin we're made of the same star stuff but that's philosophical." Anna took a breath, "After all we've endured together I think we know one another much better than I've known many people in my life."

John struggled to find a solid counter argument, "What if you're making this decision on the spur of the moment because we've seen death and now you just want to do something to make it feel as though we're living? I've seen men marry women they met the night before they saw battle and needed to feel alive."

"John, I've studied the mind my entire life and I know when mine is made up." Anna forced him to look at her, "There are men, like Doctor Green, who knowing them even a day more would not tell me anymore about them than I know now. And there are others, like you, who I can keep learning about for the rest of my life. Don't deny me the chance to know you better."

"Can't we wait until there's not someone roaming the streets trying to kill versions of you?"

"John, there'll always be another killer, another problem, another patient…"

"Not like this."

"I pray not." Anna put a hand to his cheek, "But I won't let this man stop me living my life. Life, in general, is too short for us to leave so much to chance or to leave it until tomorrow."

"And your response is to the feeling that life is short is to marry me? After everything I've seen in marriage and in my work you want that in your life on a permanent basis?"

"Yes."

"Then, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're mad."

"And I'd say you're scared."

John shuffled, "I'm not scared."

"Prove it."

"How?"

"By marrying me."

"That's not-"

"You're not listening." Anna smiled, "We're going to get married. You'll go to the clerk's office tomorrow and file for the license. When you have it we'll take it to the first judge we can find and we'll be married before the law."

"What about a church? Or a white wedding?"

"We're a little too practical to waste time with that." Anna squeezed his hand, "And I'd much rather the right man than the right wedding anyway."

John sighed, hanging his head before laughing a little, "There's nothing I can say to dissuade you is there?"

"Nothing at all." Anna pulled his lips to hers but stopped just short, "You'll soon be Mr. Anna Smith."

"That's not how it works."

Anna raised an eyebrow and then nodded, "I think it is."

John kissed her, "I guess it is."


	14. Part II: King of Kings

Contrary to popular belief, very few men build cities as monoliths to their achievements or to stand against the test of time. Most build them to shelter their families, trade for food, or survive. They are conglomerations of families and individuals hoping to brave the world better by living amongst others.

What fools humans are.

The greatest danger to one human is not the elements, though they kill the unready, the ignorant, and the destitute in droves yearly. The danger is not the wild animal for man kills them, traps them, tames them, or eats them. The danger is not even the land itself though it starves man, forces him to scrape and sweat, and struggle just for a morsel of food.

No, the greatest danger to a human is another.

Man has always been man's greatest enemy.

From the time Cain killed his brother Abel, man has sought power and prestige at the cost of another. For one to rise another must fall. For one to live another must die. For one to succeed another must by necessity fail. It is the balance of life and nature's way. The way man still recognizes as being almost as old as himself.

Such it is with man and his neighbor as well as one nation to another. For what is a conqueror but one man who took much from many? What is a victor without his spoils? What could one man laud over another unless it is what he took with the strength of his arm and the force of his will?

The now great city, resting on the shores of the Hudson, grew from small huts for the fishermen and the settlers to buildings that threaten to block the sun. From the forests that spread from coast to coast to the sprawling monoliths were families cram into spaces not fit for human life. From simplicity to complexity. From humility to pride.

But, oh, should all weep for such a city as this. A city proud in its towering strength and private about its rotting, fetid interior. A city forgetting its humble origins to bask in its grandness. A city that has learned arrogance and pride but must be taught again its native humility.

For, as all know, the prideful fall and great is the fall thereof. As the poet Percy Shelley wrote:

I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said—"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

And on the pedestal, these words appear:

My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;

Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away."

Cities are only as great as the people who live in them are willing to give before they die in them. Graves make poor markers for the those who wish to see the sights. Sometimes society forgets that it is nothing but a thin line and a list of rules away from disaster. Religion is no more than a generation from apostasy.

Such can be said of the doctors who treat the insane. Are they not of affected mind to brave the depths of depravity to seek a lost soul? Can they not also succumb to the abyss at the fringes of the stable mind and lose themselves to that beckoning blackness? Are not all men mad in their own way?

Or what of the policeman? Is he not just a step from becoming those he hunts in the nighttime? Is not the violence he sees a prelude to the beast within himself? Can he not just give up the veneer of respectability and surrender to the animal that craves the blood and violence the common criminal already enjoys?

All will one day stand as only the stumps of stone, the visage washed away in time, seeking to proudly proclaim: here stands greatness.

But all fades.

All fall.

Darkness consumes all… eventually.

The only question then becomes: how will that darkness consume your soul?


	15. Look on My Works Ye Mighty

John reached an arm out to pull at a blanket only to find them jumbled at his side. He opened his eyes and smiled, Anna's blonde head barely visible in the blankets she wrapped around herself to burrow deeper. Sneaking a hand inside the mess he found a patch of her skin and pinched gently.

Anna started, sitting vertically in a moment, and fumbled with the blankets to stare at John. Pointing a finger at him she narrowed her eyes, "You're playing a very dangerous game Detective."

"Do you not like games? We played a few last night." John found her waist and dragged her over top him, yanking some of the blankets and sheets over them.

"Oh?" Anna slid herself down John's waist, pulling the blankets covering him with her while those over her stayed in place to hide her from his view. "Are we playing another game?"

John went to answer but hissed instead when she wrapped a hand around his half-hard erection. Her grip tightened and John closed his eyes, "You haven't answered me John."

"Yes, yes, it's a game." He gasped out, tearing at the blankets keeping Anna concealed as she lowered her mouth to leave a kiss near his navel before starting a trail downward.

"Good because I want to continue celebrating." Anna licked around his base before kissing toward the top. "May I?"

"Please." Anna grinned at John's strangled sound and spread the flat of her tongue at his base to lick upward like she might an ice cream.

He groaned, clutching at the sheets still wrapped around her. Through the white sheets he could see her breasts and tried to focus enough to expose them to his view. His desires were second to Anna's motions as she took him in her mouth and sucked deep. She kept up her ministrations, running her tongue over him in tandem with her teeth nipping at his sensitive and swelling skin.

A familiar tingle grew at the base of John's spine and he tried to move Anna but she only held him between her teeth in a Cheshire grin before running the tip of her tongue through the slit at the top. John bucked and Anna's hands dug in at his hips to hold him steady, his own struggles with the blankets forgotten in the rush of pleasure flooding his senses. With grunts and moans John released and Anna pulled at him until John was thrusting helplessly into her mouth with no direction and no finesse.

Her name filled the room in time with the blinding light that stole his vision a moment. His movements slowed with the depletion of his climax and Anna ran her tongue over him again before sitting up. She licked her lips before resting herself on John's chest, "How do you feel?"

John could only choke out half a laugh and Anna gave her own tinkling giggle, "I guess my work is done."

She climbed off the bed, shedding the sheets and draping them back over the bed to walk naked toward her washroom. John stared for a minute before he managed to get himself off the bed. He stumbled slightly, following her into the washroom on less than sturdy legs.

Anna was busy with the bath when John came behind her. His hands worked over her hips, teasing his fingers to the juncture between her thighs, and slipping between them. She grabbed at the side of the tub, holding there as John kissed over her shoulders and back.

"You didn't think I'd let you have all the fun this morning did you?" He teethed at her ear lobe and Anna moaned, arching herself back to rest her head on his shoulder. "We were playing a game and we should play fair."

One of John's hands sculpted up to her breasts, massaging them in his palm. He timed his movements with the gliding of his fingers and pinched at one nipple as he snuck his fingers through her folds. Anna cried out, spreading her legs at the urging of his, and worked her hips against his hand.

Even though he only had a few minutes reprieve, John could already feel his response building. It rested right at Anna's back but when she tilted forward slightly, seeking to further the sensations of his fingers burying deep inside her before pulling to the edge, he slipped lower. Soon, the movements of her hips gyrating to her release had her rubbing him with the crease of her ass.

John gritted his teeth, trying to focus on drawing out Anna's pleasure, but between her cries and her motions his own arousal thickened. He worked harder inside her, seeking out the hood covering her nerves, and pressing on it with his thumb. Between that and his hand still kneading over her breasts, Anna sobbed his name with her climax.

Giving her a moment, John eased his fingers through her quivering walls. He drew out slowly, spreading the result of her orgasm just to the crux of her sex, and turned Anna in his arms. Her eyes were unfocused but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rubbed herself against him. John groaned, her slick center stroking him to even tighter proportions. When Anna grabbed his hand and pulled his glistening fingers into her mouth John seized her hips.

In a moment her back was to the wall and her legs wrapped around his hips. John paused, just teasing at her entrance. Anna gathered her breath, clinging to the back of his head with trembling fingers, "Don't tease John."

John thrust in as far as he could and Anna moaned with it. Her still sensitive and swollen center welcomed him without issue. The tight, wet channel pulsed hotly around him in time with the twitches of his own arousal, sending John to new heights of euphoria. He sunk deeper, pushed harder, and pulled to the edge before taking her to the brink. Anna's ankles locked and her heels dug into the flesh of his ass while one of her hands raked and grappled at his sides for a secure hold.

Risking a look down John lost what little breath he had seeing her body take him in. He thumbed over her, hissing when he accidently mistimed and brushed himself, hearing Anna's sobs of approval at his motions spurring John onward. He drove into her, twisting slightly to hit new spots and send her cries to higher and higher registers.

When it grew too much John took her nerves between his thumb and forefinger, manipulating them to drive Anna to her peak. The screech of his name echoed over the washroom walls and soon John grunted at her hand pressing the base of his spine. He rutted her against the wall, banging loud enough to possibly disturb neighbors, before releasing into her.

They slumped slightly, John seeking steady footing so he would not drop Anna. Her legs slid off him, the tremors tangible as John's hand slipped over her thigh to help her to the ground. Separating, John took Anna's cheek in his hand and kissed her. She responded with a lazy tease of her tongue on his lip but pulled away before he could deepen it.

"I have a bath running." She shut off the water and turned to him, "You're welcome to join me."

John only grinned.

* * *

Tying his tie and flattening his collar, John only hoped no one would notice he was wearing the same clothes two days in a row. The he remembered that he worked at a police station and everyone would notice. He sighed at himself in the mirror, "I need to go home and change."

"It's a suit John," Anna half turned to him from where she sat on the stool before her mirror, pinning her hair in place. "I'm sure no one'll notice you're wearing a suit today since you do every other day."

"I work with policemen Anna," John gathered his jacket, working his arms through the sleeves, "They're paid to be observant."

"I guess you're right." Anna stood up, buttoning her jacket over her blouse, "I need to go to the Institute today and then could I request you meet me at the morgue?"

"What's at the morgue?"

"Hopefully Ms. Denker's body." Anna put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm running the autopsy with Mr. Moseley and I'd like you to be there to record anything you notice."

"You think her death is like the others?"

"Not at all." Anna pulled away, selecting a coat from the closet, "But I think he death could tell us something about the pathology of our killer."

"Someone who preys on the weak and the helpless."

"Exactly." Anna put the coat over her arm, "And, another thing?"

"Yes?"

"Move here."

John stuttered, "What?"

"Move here. It's nicer than your flat and, if you need an excuse, I have a spare room down the hall." Anna shrugged, "I'd like the company, for a start, but I also think that perhaps it'd be better for both of us if you lived here. Given we're going to be sharing out life very soon I think it's a logical step."

"Do you fear for my life?"

"Not inordinately but I do worry a little for mine." Anna pointed to the window, "If I see someone watching me there I want to know that I've someone nearby."

"Protection?"

Anna grinned, "Among other perks I'm sure." She put on her coat, "It's your choice but I'll be performing the autopsy at noon. I'd like you to be present."

"I'll be there as soon as I get changed."

"Good." Anna kissed his cheek, "And do consider it John. I'd very much like to have you here."

"Then I'll stay."

"Perfect." Anna waved to him, taking the stairs, "I'll see you at noon."

John returned to his flat and changed quickly. Taking a short time to pack his meager belongings, he dragged his two cases to the base of the steps and returned the key to his landlord before taking a taxi with his things to the morgue. It was still early so John milled around outside until the fidgeting man he recognized as Doctor Moseley came from up the street.

Tipping his hat to him John then extended a hand, "Doctor."

"Detective." Moseley shook enthusiastically, "It's a treat having you here. I don't often get to perform for others. Most find it rather morbid what I do."

"I can understand." John paused, "Why do you do what you do?"

"Someone's got to mind the dead." Moseley unlocked the door and ushered John inside. "Might as well be me."

"What I mean, Doctor, is why do you take such delight in it?"

"Delight?" Moseley laughed, "That's just a dark sense of humor. It's how I cope with the brutality I witness everyday."

"That's how you cope?"

Moseley pointed around them, "You see some dark things detective, I've no doubt over that, but I see it all. I see the beatings, the drownings, the suicides, the murders, and the accidents. I dress the children, the mothers, the fathers, the sisters, the brothers, and the parents all alike here. I examine them, treat them with dignity, and then prepare them for whatever rest lays beyond." He sighed, "I do this job because I care about how these people get treated. If they end up here life didn't treat them well but I can."

"That's very noble Doctor."

"No more noble than what you do." Moseley wrung his hands, "And I don't mean to sound out of place but this killer you're hunting with Doctor Smith, do you have any leads that will put my fears of seeing the good Doctor laid out on my slabs?"

John paused, "You'd noticed?"

"I work with the dead, Detective, and she helped with those autopsies. Of course I noticed the similarities between her appearance and the four victims."

"Do you care about Doctor Smith?"

Moseley nodded, "She's been a good friend to me. Not many had faith I could do this job, said I was too jumpy and flighty for the level of commitment this would require but she stood in my defense. She thought I was more than capable and for that I owe her my professional reputation."

John chuckled, "She is that kind of person."

"She's one of a kind and, in a dark way, I could see why a killer might seek out those who appear as she does." Moseley looked up as Anna entered the morgue, "Doctor Smith I have you're body ready."

"Thank you Doctor." Anna removed her coat and paused, looking at the two cases before turning to John, "Is this all you have?"

"I live simply."

She raised her eyebrows, folding her coat over the bags, "Shall we?"

John removed his coat and hat before following her to the cold room were Moseley had Ms. Denker's body spread on a slab. Anna pulled a smock from the wall and offered one to John before working her own over her head. She tied hers quickly and accepted the gloves, pulling them over her arms and hands as John removed his notebook and pencil.

Preparing a fresh page he stepped to the side as Moseley held a scalpel out to Anna, "Would you like the honors, Doctor?"

"No thank you," Anna gestured to the body, "Please proceed."

Moseley cut into the body, sliding the sharp implement smoothly through the skin, and pulled back. John watched in a morbid fascination, taking notes of the conversation between Moseley and Anna as they investigated the various organs and took samples of blood for testing. The process took almost two hours before Anna stepped back, her gloves and smock stained with blood, and removed both with careful hands to stuff them into the furnace behind them.

John stepped over to her, "What's the final diagnosis?"

"Didn't you hear?"

"I admit I only understood a quarter of the terms and directions you gave one another. Even if I heard what you said, I'm not sure I understood what it meant."

"There are at least twelve different toxins in her system."

"Poisons?"

"In a way." Anna shook her head, looking back at Moseley as he carefully stitched the different incisions closed with a practiced hand. "They're all reactions from a host of differing medications she had to take while incarcerated there. She only needed three of them, if that."

"Then Doctor Green killed her?"

"Yes and no. The combination of the sedative he used to calm her could've interacted with any of those drugs to send her heart into tachycardia." Anna rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, "I'm more upset by the chemistry."

"How so?"

"All those fighting medications were regressing any kind of treatment. Her mind was so saturated that even if she could think it would've taken herculean effort to do so." Anna sighed, "I could've helped her."

"You did help her. You gave her a sense of peace in her last moments."

Anna conceded a nod, "In a way I did. Having someone who didn't believe she was mad would've gone a long way to easing her troubled mind. She'd been through so much I think there's a mercy to her passing to the next life."

John nodded his head in agreement, "She wanted us to help her escape her abusers and, in a way, we did."

"Not the way you wanted." Anna gave John a weak smile, "With her mind so addled it was all I could do to get the answers we wrung from her. Even with a detoxification regime she might never've been able to tell us who did it to her."

"Do we have many suspects?"

Anna scoffed, "The list is as long as the employment records and her records. It could've been any number of orderlies, visitors, policemen, or even doctors."

"Doctors like Green?"

Anna sighed, "There's a possibility of that. He's not known for the exceptional treatment of his patients so I could believe it but I'm straining credulity to think he'd risk his hard won position to rape a mad woman in his care."

"It's not unheard of. Abuse of power and all that."

"For Doctor Green to risk losing his license for that doesn't make much sense. His ego couldn't take the hit."

John chewed his thoughts a moment, "You do realize that we can't prosecute Ms. Denker's abusers and her, for lack of a better word, killers because of the sheer number of people who could've done it?" He paused, "With her dead justice dies with her."

"No."

"No?"

"No. We hope her death can spur some people to action. That's justice enough for her I think." Anna led John back toward the entrance, waiting for him to divest himself of his smock and for both to bid Moseley goodbye before gathering John's things.

"Spur someone to action?"

"If we can shake more funding from those with an interest in doing good then others'll get better care."

John beamed, "You're a bit like Ms. Bly."

Anna shrugged, "I believe that sometimes the best way to avenge someone is to make sure no one else suffers as they did. Justice is ensuring no one else has to endure what you did by making sure the perpetrators can't do it again."

"Hence your Institute?"

Anna stopped, her arm halfway through a coat sleeve. "In a way. Though I'm curious why you'd come to that conclusion."

John cleared his throat, "In the restaurant you mentioned you stabbed a man in the leg when you were nine. Given the way you seem to treat men in general I take it the man in question was not your father or you'd hate all men. Whatever impression your father left told you most men are good and therefore you operate under that assumption. But the man you stabbed changed your perception slightly but only in that it made you wary. Wary of the monsters lurking beneath all of our personas. Wary of our masks."

"That's rather bold."

"Only if I'm wrong and you didn't stab your stepfather in the leg when you were nine because he attempted to have his way with you." John waited but watched Anna's eyes flit to the ground. "I thought so."

"What's it got to do with my Institute?"

"You take in children, teenagers, and women but not men. You see the way the world treats the ignored and you don't ignore them." John smiled at her, "Your attention to them, because you believe their stories about the monsters within, marks you as someone with the experience brought only by the first hand."

"And you say you're not my equal," Anna buttoned her coat, "I rather think you're more than a match for me."

"Then I'm right?"

"You are." Anna put her hand on the knob for the door, "I realized very young that I didn't need to look under my bed for monsters because they dwell inside us."

John followed Anna to the street and they hailed a cab to take them back to her house. Anna sat with her back to the driver, jaw moving as she worked something out in her head. John snorted and she turned to him.

"Something to say Detective?"

"I can hear your mind working from here." John opened a hand toward her, "What's bothering you?"

"I was wondering if you'd mind accompanying me to another function?"

John raised his eyebrows, "Why wouldn't I when the last worked so favorably for me?"

Anna blushed slightly, "It did, didn't it?"

John grinned at her, "What kind of function?"

"The Blakes, being the wealthy patrons of a great many causes, are honoring Josephine Shaw Lowell, leader in the New York Consumer's League in '90."

"Josephine Shaw?" John thought a moment, "Not the sister of Major Shaw?"

"Major Shaw?"

"Robert Gould Shaw, the Civil War major that led his all-black battalion to a massacre at Morris Island?"

"The same." Anna nodded, "She's being honored for her work to increase wages and enhance working conditions for working women as well as her work with the Charity Organization Society of New York."

"Sounds like another of your heroes, Doctor."

"She's a woman of position that labored tirelessly for the betterment of those less fortunate than herself." Anna smiled, "I couldn't help but see a bit of myself in her I guess."

John leaned back against the seat, "I assume that our suspects will find their way back to the same ballroom."

"More than likely." Anna chewed on her cheek, "But now they'll know who you are and what our motives are."

"That works to our advantage."

Anna raised an eyebrow, "How does showing our hand work to our advantage?"

"Because they'll show their hands." John sniffed, "People reacting out of fear are easy to intimidate and anyone feeling threatened in that room'll make an obvious statement about it."

"Then we'll go?"

"I don't see how we could say no to an invitation that'll put us back into the game with our killer where we both hold the upper hand."

"There's something to the upper hand," Anna looked out the window, "Someone's strength will fail them and they lose it in the end."

"You sound rather convinced about that."

Anna shrugged, "Every time someone wants to say to another, 'look at what I've done, how incredible I am' it's before they follow the old adage that pride cometh before the fall."

John nodded "'Look on my works ye mighty' and all that?"

"Exactly that. We've tipped our hand too soon."

"Or maybe not soon enough."

* * *

John handed his cloak to the footmen and offered Anna his arm. This time everyone's faces were on full display and John felt almost self-conscious about his face among all the finery. Anna patted his arm and they descended the stairs.

"I wouldn't worry. You're the best looking here."

"I'm not sure that's true."

"Trust me," Anna grinned, "I'm a Doctor."

"So you are." Leaning over to her, keeping his eye on the room, John whispered, "So this is a charity auction?"

"Hm," Anna selected a glass from a passing waiter, "The money raised tonight through the auction, and the price of the plates, will be given to the Charity Organization Society of New York."

"I guess the tree of funding could shake in the direction of those in need." John suggested and Anna sighed.

"I can only hope."

They had a moment of quiet before a bald man, escorting a woman with a kind smile and face John felt was familiar to him, approached. Anna smiled at them, shaking hands with the woman and nodding at the man. "What a pleasant surprise to see you Mrs. Sinderby. I didn't know you were attending tonight."

"We weren't but Atticus mentioned he couldn't use his tickets since he wanted to use the weekend to get away with Rose so I encouraged Daniel to attend."

"Rachel," The man huffed, "They don't want to know the details of why we're here. It's hardly important."

"Actually, Mr. Sinderby, I'm rather interested." Anna placed her empty glass on a tray. "I'd been trying to find a way to contact you directly since you weren't answering any of the notes I sent to your office."

"We've been busy."

"Yes, cutting off parental access to their children at the Hebrew Orphan Asylum." Anna crossed her arms over her chest, "Tell me what benefit it is to child development when your strict codes about parental or family involvement make your little institution on Amsterdam Avenue no more than a prison for the six hundred children you inter there?"

"The benefit is that where they once risked living on the street they now have a bed. Their parents could not care for them and no we are. It's as simple as that."

"But it's not, Mr. Sinderby." Anna gestured to his wife, "As a Rabbi you must teach the importance of 'honor thy father and thy mother' in your sermons on your Sabbaths so explain how denying these children their fathers and mothers makes them obedient to the law?"

"I wasn't aware you studied the Torah." Mrs. Sinderby interjected, John also noting the red tinge to Mr. Sinderby's face.

"I've read the Bible a few times and, for all the arguments about translation differences, I still think the essence of the Ten Commandments wasn't lost in the process." Anna nodded at Mr. Sinderby, "Those children need the involvement of their parents in their lives for full success."

"Their parents gave them to our care. They should continue to trust us when they are solvent as they did when they were destitute."

"But, if they can take their children back and support them now then shouldn't they have the right to retrieve their children?"

"And who says they'd be in better care there than with us?"

"They'd be with their parents and everything I've ever seen or studied tells me that the best thing for children is the family home with people who love them."

Sinderby snorted, "You don't understand the way the world works Doctor."

"With all due respect, I think I understand it better than you do."

"This is the kind of muddled nonsense our son picked up working at your Institution." Sinderby took his wife's hand, "I'll bid you a goodnight Doctor but just out of courtesy."

They walked away and Anna shook her head, "It's pig headed imbeciles like him who'll prevent the system working to make families solvent. It'll build a dependence on a system that's a poor substitute for the home and just cripple a class of people who don't need another crutch."

John took one of her hands in his, "You continually amaze me, Doctor."

"Thank you Detective." Anna looked up, "Mary's here. I need to speak to her quickly before the auction begins. I'll be right back, I promise."

She vanished into the crowd and John kept his position near the wall. He watched the milling crowd, noted those in tense discussion and the others only there for the social necessity, and only emerged from his reverie when someone tapped his shoulder. John turned and tried to control his expression when he saw Green standing there.

"Evening Doctor Green."

"Detective." Green flexed his jaw, "I assume you accompanied Anna here tonight."

"Doctor Smith did request I come." John pointed across the room, "She's debating something with Ms. Crawley at the moment but if you want I could tell her you wanted a word."

"I don't. Not with her anyway." Green sipped from his glass, "I suppose you think she's a kind of genius don't you?"

"And you don't?"

"I went to school with her and I've known her a long time. Nothing, in all those years, ever gave me any indication she was any smarter than anyone else. She only succeeds in making people think she is by confusing them."

"Confusing them how?" John folded his arms over his chest, "By actually treating her patients instead of locking them in dark rooms to be abused?"

"If you're referring to the tragedy that was Ms. Denker-"

"I most certainly am." John shook his head, "The way she was treated in your care was abhorrent and you should be ashamed of yourself."

"Do you work with the insane, Detective?" Green scoffed, "I didn't think so. You capture them, jail them, and then hand over the worst to someone else to be their problem. You've no idea what lengths must be used to keep people in line. You don't think your prisons are teeming with abuse and rape and corruption?"

"I didn't say they were but those in your care come to you for help. What do you give them but misery and degradation?"

"Don't cast stones from your glass castle, Detective." Green finished his glass and set it on a tray, "You've been bamboozled to believe that Alienists owe their patients anything. That anyone is owed anything."

"Do doctors not owe their patients the best care they can provide?"

"Only if they're actually patients but Doctor Smith's belief that there is a human being in the fractures of the mind if blind optimism if not downright ludicrous in and of itself."

John stopped, feeling he finally understood Green, "You despise what you do, don't you Doctor?"

"I despise that society wants to waste time saving those beyond saving."

"But if there's money in it for you then it's all alright?" John scoffed in disgust, "You're a traitor to your oath."

"I do what I do because the world is about what you can take for yourself."

"Have you taken any of your patients for yourself?" John watched Green's eyes and noted the way he shuffled, "You're a disgrace to your class and your profession. Betraying the trust those people put in you to really help them."

"No more than your precious Doctor Smith betrays the trust of those who visit her by spreading her false hope to families who'll never get their family members back from the abyss they tumbled head long into." Green gave his own bitter cackle, "You think that there's someone in there just praying for release?"

"I do."

"Then you're a fool," Green almost spit, "They're gone, long gone. And the moment they realize how gone they are they try to kill themselves because death is better than being a prisoner in your own mind."

"How many of your patients yielded to death rather than yield to you?" John ventured but Green just sneered back.

"You think you can interrogate me about my methods? I warn you that only he who is without sin should cast their stone."

"And only he who understands the Bible should quote it." John shook his head, "You live in a sterile world of the sick and permanently afflicted because you don't want to heal them. If you heal them you can't continue using them for your own gain. Be it through funding or through manipulation or through some perverse power you gain from lording over the lost and forsaken, you won't give up what you've gained because you can't."

"You've no idea what I do."

"I know that what probably irks you most about Doctor Smith and her work is that she sees success. People change with her and they find their way back from the abyss and you'll never understand why because you're a selfish bastard." John nodded at him, "Enjoy the rest of your night Doctor."

John walked over to Anna and she furrowed her brow before looking over her shoulder to see the fuming Green, "What'd you say to him?"

"The truth." John turned to the Crawleys, "Pleasure to see you again."

"And you, Detective." Mary clapped her hands together, "Anna was just telling me that she's yet to show you her pride and joy."

"I've seen the Institute."

"Oh," Mary made a face that had John a little nervous at the level of pleasure she gathered from his ignorance, "I'm not talking about the Institute."

"Then what?"

"Shhh," Anna hushed them, "It's starting."

John scanned the room a moment but noticed Green had slipped away. He also failed to find Bricker, Carlisle, Thomas, or Crowborough. He leaned down to whisper to Anna, "I think our targets slipped the net."

"We can't win them all Detective." She pointed front, "Now pay attention, this is for charity."


	16. And Despair!

John shook his head, "His sixth body."

"I think our killer knows you're living in my house." Anna gestured to the girl's head, "Decapitated like the last one."

"But I started living in your house before last night." John gestured to the bloody scene, "If this is about that then he's a little late."

"What if his information is late? I haven't seen anyone following me so perhaps his spies are slow."

John shook his head, "That seems unlikely given the alacrity with which he gathered information on us in the past."

"Then what did we do to set him off?"

"I've no idea with this one." John sighed, "Whatever angered him was severe."

"What could it be? No one was there last night when my work was recognized at the auction." Anna bent closer to the body, "If this was about jealousy for what I do, he heard about it from somewhere else."

"Maybe we've constrained our thinking. Trapped it in a box by assuming this is about us." John closed his eyes, scrubbing over his face as he paced the alley. "We need to go back to the basics of what we know about the killer and build from there. We're just shooting possibilities at the air right now."

"Better than nothing." Anna went to speak again but stopped herself as Inspector Carson approached. "Good morning Inspector."

"I liked my mornings better when the risk of finding dead women in alleys happened in vulgar detective novels and penny dreadfuls." Carson handed John a telegram, "This came for you at the precinct."

"Why not have whoever sent it deliver it right here?" John gestured about them, "We're practically at the precinct's front door. If he's sending us a message then he's already been pretty daring about it."

"I honestly couldn't say sir." Carson pointed to the body, "I've got the Doctor ready to remove the body for us if you and Doctor Smith are finished with your investigations of the scene."

"Give us another minute please Carson then you can send Moseley for the body." John waited for Carson to leave before holding up the telegram to Anna. "In other news that might anger our killer, we're booked at the Registrar today at two."

"Today?" Anna folded her arms, "I thought you'd put it off."

"No," John shook his head, "You told me to set a day and I did. I admit, it's not as soon as I wanted, but with the party last night and our autopsy of Ms. Denker there've been a few things on my mind."

"John," Anna put a hand on his arm, "I wasn't berating you. I was impressed."

"I live to impress." John tucked the telegram in his pocket. "If you're not too occupied would you aid Doctor Moseley on the autopsy?"

"Don't you trust the man's report?"

"I do but he doesn't file it with me first and I don't want to worry Mr. Pelham or Chief Crawley if there's documentation out of place on this case. I get the feeling they'd fear the worst."

Anna agreed, "Doctor Mosely'll set the autopsy for as soon as he can clean the body sufficiently. I'd say we'd be finished around noon if I can press him to put this at the top of the line but there was a drowning last night and he tends to put children first."

"As long as you're completed by one-thirty then I can collect you from there. We'll go to the Registrar, get married, and be back at work by three-thirty."

"Very punctual." Anna chuckled, "I'd say there's no romance in it but what could be more romantic than sneaking off to get married when no one knows?"

"Not much." John agreed and waved Moseley over to them. "Better get to work Doctor. We've got to deconstruct all of this and find out what drove our killer."

"As is always the case."

John took the short walk back to the office and bit back a groan when he saw Chief Crawley and Branson standing in his office. He reached out and tugged on Talbot's shirtsleeve as the man tried to dash past him. The lankier man swung to a stop, raising his eyebrows.

"How can I help you this morning Detective?"

"When will your exposures from this morning be done?"

"I could have them to you before noon but that's rushing it."

"Safely?"

"After three. It'll give the best images and I think you want clarity."

"Perfect. And Talbot?" The man stopped, "I'd like your insight on this. I think you see it a little differently and I want to pick your brain on it."

"Happy to oblige Detective. I'll be available when I give you the photographs." Talbot saluted and dashed off again, moving like a dancer on his long legs as he weaved between the other officers and investigators moving through the room.

John entered his office and nodded to Branson before addressing Chief Crawley, "Good morning Chief Crawley."

"What kind of morning?" Chief Crawley huffed, "There's another dead girl right outside our precinct John."

"I know but I wanted to start by saying-"

"Save it John." Chief Crawley slapped a newspaper to the desk and jabbed at it with his finger, "What's this?"

John leaned over to read the headline and then glared over at Branson. Branson help up his hands, "Don't look at me. I haven't printed a thing. As per our agreement for the exclusive on the whole case."

"Then I've got no explanation for this." John pointed to it, "Someone must've seen me at the Blakes' party for Ms. Shaw last night."

"I'd say they bloody well did." Chief Crawley picked it up, "I quote, 'Former Five Points Detective Dances the Night Away while Women Suffer Slaughter'."

"It's got the alliterative quality to it sir."

"I don't give two tits about alliteration." Chief Crawley flung the paper away. It flapped across the room and hit the board with the details of their case on it. "What I give two tits about is why someone saw you at a party when you're supposed to be hunting down suspects and finding a killer."

"Because I was trying to identify them at the party."

"You should've been trying to identify them in the act of killing that poor woman from this morning." Chief Crawley ran a hand through his hair and John thought he saw him tear out strands from the root. "Did you question anyone at the party?"

"No sir."

"Have you brought anyone in because you noticed something at the party?"

"No sir."

"Then what point did it serve to attend?"

"Still working on a good answer to that sir."

Chief Crawley made an unflatteringly disparaging noise, "Perhaps having Doctor Smith assist on this case has distracted you."

"She's been nothing but helpful."

"For your libido or for the case John?" Chief Crawley jutted a finger at him, "I know you, and your habits. Don't forget, I was there with you in New Mexico."

"Sir, that was years ago and an unfair assessment of my current performance." John shifted, "Doctor Smith's the one who figured out the type of man we're looking for. Without her we'd have no suspects."

"You've still got no suspects. At least not any you're bringing in for questioning or to bring up on charges." Chief Crawley gestured toward the building's entrance. "Women continue to die, Detective, and what've you got to show for it but more bodies now than when you started on this case three weeks ago?"

John bit his tongue, "We're doing what we can, sir."

"Then do better or I'll hand this case to someone who can handle it and get me results." Chief Crawley pushed past him, "Have something solid by tomorrow John or you're out on your ear."

"Yes sir." John straightened and did not even flinch when Chief Crawley slammed the office door.

Branson whistled, "He's torn me asunder like that before so I've got some salve for the new one I think he ripped you if you want it."

"He's done it to be before too so I'll get over it." John went to his desk, sorting over the new messages and old notes, "What've you got Branson?"

"Enough to make me wonder if I should be put on your informant pay roll or taken on as a part time investigator." Branson flipped a few pages on his notepad. "I've been keeping an eye on Senator Crowborough since we last spoke and noted he's been really cautious in his movements lately."

"Why'd you think?"

"If he's guilty then dropping three more bodies since you came on the scene might be part of it in a big way but I'm actually growing a bit disaffected with my theory in that regard." Branson perched on the arm of the wooden chair in front of John's desk. "That one this morning, by the way, couldn't be his."

"You're sure?"

"Followed him all of last night."

"For this case?"

"There's been talk of some gerrymandering, even after our little scandal in the census and last election, and I wanted to see if he was meeting with the hands greasing his wheel, so to speak."

"And?" John leaned forward and Branson grinned.

"Let's just say, there were other hands greasing his wheel that make me think Senator Crowborough's wife hasn't been satisfied of late."

"You caught her finding her carnal pleasures elsewhere?"

"No, I saw Senator Crowborough getting his pleasures elsewhere." Branson nodded at John's dropped jaw. "Mr. Carlisle provides more than basic civic service to the fine Senator from the Great State of New York. He also provides the use of Mr. Barrow."

"Oh," John grimaced, "I do hope you're not going to try and give me pictures as proof of your discovery."

"I don't have any I'd show to anyone yet since I want to publish that whole expose at a later date." Branson stood up, "But I thought you could use a little good news."

"It eliminates the Senator from our list."

"Not Mr. Carlisle?"

John shook his head, "Many like Carlisle, with his finger in so many pies, might be looking to distract us from our investigation for strictly political purposes or he's doing it because it's personal. Point is, we won't know until we can rule him out completely."

"But you don't like him for it either, do you?" John hesitated and Branson raised a hand, "I'm sorry, that sounded far too much like the reporter asking the question."

"It did but you're right, I don't." John shuffled in his seat, "What do you know about Doctor Green?"

"He your favorite?"

"I'm trying to remain impartial."

"And failing at it I'd wager." Branson scratched at his chin, "He's a tough one. Publically he's the darling of the medical world in a way."

"Why'd you say that?"

"Most people adore the allure of the insane. With gothic novels and scary detective stories they're all convinced things like the Ripper killings in London are the result of a fractured mind." Branson snorted, "Everyone's still convinced man is either good or bad and therefore the insane are as they are because God made them that way. It's what Green feeds on."

"You disagree?"

"I've seen the work Doctor Smith's done and I have to. Her support of Sybil's labors against the spread of TB in the boroughs makes me think that real healers, and I mean the people who want to help, comes from acknowledging that all men are good and bad."

"But not Green?"

"Surprising as I'm sure it'd be to him, I did read his paper about caging the beast, as he said, and I disagree. I've seen poverty drive mothers to murder their children and fathers who took an axe to their wives because they thought, in their logic, they were doing better by them." Branson shuddered, "Green'd lock them in a room to die and throw away the key without a second thought."

"What else, despite your personal feelings, could you find out about him?"

"He's an old acquaintance of the Gillinghams. They met at school I think. He went to Oxford with Doctor Smith and gained himself a bit of a reputation in his training years." Branson thought a moment, "I thought I heard something about a scandal or some such in London that sent him here about seven years back because why else does an endeavoring Harley Street alienist make their trudge west to New York?"

"Think you could dig anything up for that?"

Branson smirked, "It'd be worth whatever story I find there to try."

"Mr. Branson," John stood and shook his hand, "If I could pay you at all I would. Someone willing to follow his nose like you deserves more from me."

"I get what I earn Detective." Branson saluted him and headed for the door, "I'll tell you what I find."

"Mr. Branson," John rounded his desk, putting his hands in his pockets and lowering his voice near Branson's ear. "What else have you heard about the Wraith?"

"Definitely in the city. I've a couple former snitches run for it already. They think someone's sending the Wraith after them in revenge."

"I think the Wraith took a shot at me awhile back."

"The dead Mrs. Shackleton?" John nodded and Branson whistled, "Take care Mr. Bates. I'd like to think it was a case of 'wrong place, wrong time' but you know better than me the Wraith doesn't do that. If the Wraith fires in your direction you're probably marked."

"My worries exactly." John jerked his head toward the door, "If you get word as to potential targets I'd like to know."

"That's the thing, it's all been silent on that front."

"If you hear anything."

"You'll be the first to know."

* * *

John halted the cab outside the mortuary and stepped out to hold the door. Anna hurried from the door to the mortuary and inside the cab without a word. With a swing upward John rejoined her and tapped the cab wall to signal the driver to leave.

Settling in his seat John pointed at her, "Prognosis?"

"Same as number five, with extreme aggression and violence evident in the killing. Whatever set him off reacted with a primitive domination inside him." Anna shrugged, "I don't think this was a sexual need to the same degree as the others."

"I thought that was part of the modus operandi. A need to sexually dominate the object of his obsession."

"Not this time. The bruising patterns are consistent for strangulation and the beheading matches the jagged ferocity of the fifth victim but the rape was post mortem."

"What?"

Anna nodded, "Doctor Moseley says the injuries are consistent with a blunt object instead of the actual phallic member so I'd hazard a rod or cane maybe."

"Maybe Mr. Branson was wrong about us dropping Crowborough as a suspect."

"Why'd he say we should?"

"He has photographic evidence of the Senator's… male-center proclivities."

Anna shook her head, "I'm guessing Mr. Barrow is involved somehow."

"Mr. Barrow was the other participant. Whether willing or not I didn't press but he's the person receiving our Senator's night time attentions, not our doomed prostitutes."

"I'd have to agree. He's no longer viable as a suspect. Even if the object used to simulate rape on this woman is a cane, like Doctor Moseley suggests, the quality was low. It splintered in the body."

"Could Doctor Moseley match the splinters?"

"Not unless he had every cane used by every man in the whole of New York City." Anna lifted her hands, "That kind of search would be useless. It was an object for the moment, not something they keep around."

"I could send James and Alfred on canvas for it."

"That might be wise. I wouldn't think they walked all the way home with a cane coated in blood."

They sat in silence a moment before John reached forward to take Anna's hand, "For the moment, let's focus on happier things, shall we?"

"We are getting married." Anna smiled at him, running her thumb over his knuckles as she gripped his hand in hers. "That's happy enough for me."

"And you're absolutely sure that this rushed and rather impromptu event is what you want?"

"Yes I am." Anna kissed John, pulling away before he could try to deepen it, "Life's too short for us to waste it waiting for something to happen."

"If you're sure."

"Aren't you?"

"I already know I'd never be worthy of you so the idea that you want to spend your life with me is to be grabbed with both hands and run with so you don't have time to change your mind." John grinned and dodged the swat of Anna's hand.

"You'd better not speak so self-deprecatingly of yourself John Bates or I might change my mind."

"We can't have that." John leaned out the window, "How much faster can you go?"

They reached the courthouse and John opened the door to exit before reaching back in for Anna's hand. He led her up the stairs, toward the offices they needed, when they saw Mary and Matthew walking out of one of the rooms. The two were debating something back and forth and John wondered if they could just slip by. Unfortunately for him, Mary was faster than he anticipated and snagged Matthew into a hard stop to call after Anna.

"How good to see you." Mary hugged her and Anna snorted.

"We saw you at the party just last night."

"I know, but with friends it's always a pleasure." Mary shook John's hand, "Has she showed you her pride and joy yet?"

"You mentioned that last night but I've heard nothing else about it since."

"It's because it's not important to the matter at hand." Anna insisted but Mary waved her down.

"Anna's always been too modest for her own good." Mary sorted in her bag for something and handed it over, "But I am glad I caught you. I was going to run these reports to the Institute but I'm glad I don't have to."

"Bad news?"

"No, it's actually rather good news." Mary shrugged, "The college settlement funds have been released and we're eligible for a significant grant come the new school term in September."

"How generous?"

"I'd say we could manage another hundred children from the New York Juvenile Asylum for the training and education programs."

"That's wonderful news." Anna flicked through the papers, "How soon could you get word to Washington Heights about this?"

"I rarely go as far as 176th but we've got a potential client we might treat later this evening looking to buy some swathes of buildings in that area. We could justify a visit I think." Mary turned to Matthew as he showed her his watch. "Goodness, look at the time. I hope we haven't kept you long."

"No, we're fine." John shook Matthew and then Mary's hands. "It's a pleasure to see you both so soon."

"Truly our happy coincidence." Mary kissed Anna's cheek, "Think about the kind of children you want to lobby for. We've got some potential for further expansion if this goes well and, monetarily speaking, we're running into what we might consider a perpetuating venture should we play our cards right."

"I'll keep that in mind." Anna waved them off and waited until Mary and Matthew were out of sight before turning to John. "I'd say we're in the right mood now for this."

"Joyous enough?"

"Very much so, Mr. Bates." Anna looped her arm through his. "Let's get married."

They found the right office and were almost immediately ushered into the room. An older couple, looking almost a part of the furniture, made themselves comfortable in their daily seats while the Officiator took the license from John. He scanned it, eyeing the two of them with a hint of disapproval at the timing and giving Anna a little more of a once-over that John was sure meant he thought the rushed nature of the proceedings had something to do with her, before starting.

"Do you both come here in full possession of your faculties and of your own consent?"

"Yes sir." John stated and Anna interlaced her fingers with his.

"Then let's begin. We'll start with the man." The man cleared his throat, "Repeat after me: I, John Bates, take thee, Anna May Smith, to be my wedded wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to comfort for this day and all days, to cherish and obey till death do us part. According to God's holy ordinance and the promises I have made I hereafter pledge myself to you."

John repeated the phrases, the words floating over his tongue. He heard Anna repeat them back to him and the smile stretched over his face. Withdrawing a ring from his coat pocket, John held it over her delicate finger. The tremor of his hand reflected in the slight twitch of her finger as he slid the ring home. Anna matched his ring with one from her handbag and John immediately took her left hand in his, the rings clinking slightly when they interlocked their fingers.

"I now recognize you, Mr. and Mrs. Bates, as man and wife by the authority vested in my by the state of New York and the City of New York. Please sign here."

The man put the license forward and John signed before handing the pen to Anna. They stepped back and the witnesses signed without even looking at the page, their practice so sure their hands were practically drawn to the right lines. The Officiator stamped it and handed it over to John.

"File this within thirty days."

"Thank you sir."

The Officiator only huffed at them as John led Anna from the office. They filed the license and waited a few minutes for the woman at the desk to return with a receipt. John tucked it into his jacket.

"Now what would you like to do, Mrs. Bates?" John whispered to her as they walked out of the building and down the steps toward the street.

Anna made a show of debating her options before grinning at him, pulling her gloves over her hands. "I'd say we get back to work."

"What a lovely idea." John's hand went into his jacket but Thomas grabbed his wrist, holding it in place. "Don't make a scene here Detective. It'd ruin this lovely spring day for these people."

"What it does or doesn't do for these people shouldn't worry you as much as what it will or won't do for you Mr. Barrow." John growled as another man came behind him, forcing him forward toward a waiting cab. "I assume this isn't a visit we can ignore."

"Not really." Thomas nodded toward the cab. "I know a few people who very much want to speak to you and Doctor Smith on a matter of some urgency."

"They can kiss my-"

"Detective," Anna spoke up and John turned to her, "Perhaps we'd better let Mr. Barrow here allow us a face-to-face with his friends. It might actually do us all a world of good to get on the same page with our shadowy instigators."

John nodded and climbed into the carriage. Thomas took the seat across from him, back to the driver, while Anna perched by John. Suppressing the urge to pull Anna closer, John waited until another man took the seat with Thomas before they jerked to a start.

The ride left the busy streets and soon the muted nature of the tree-lined avenues of the uptown neighborhoods greeted John's ears. He risked a peek out the window before Thomas forced him back to his seat. John raised an eyebrow and Thomas shrugged.

"You'll recognize where you are when we stop, I promise you that Detective. So why spoil the surprise early?"

John sat back and risked a glance down at his hand when he felt the lightest of brushes there. Anna kept her glare forward at Thomas but one of her fingers slipped over John's. Again, he wished he could hold Anna's hand- his wife's hand- but this was not the moment for it.

"So, Mr. Barrow," Anna darted her eyes to the window, "Is it just our pleasure of your company in this sort of situations or is your only use to be the collector for your masters?"

"Not sure I understand your reference, Doctor."

"First you collect Detective Bates and I from outside the Abbey, where your friend Ms. O'Brien pays you a cut for all the girls you collect and bring to her door, to meet with your current employer. Now you're collecting us to meet with someone else. I'd say you've a very bad habit."

"I have many."

"No doubt." Anna scoffed, "Though I'm curious about your chief bad habit."

"Meaning?"

"How's Mr. Carlisle now that his position is under threat?"

"Mr. Carlisle'll rise above. He always does."

"On the backs of the likes of you." Anna lifted a hand, "How long do you think he'll let you hang on his coat tails before he realizes he needs to shed the excess weight to gain new heights?"

Thomas ground his teeth, "Mr. Carlisle's loyal to me."

"As loyal as your dark room dealings with Senator Crowborough?" John risked and noted the shade of pale that crept up Thomas's face. "Not so sure of him, are you?"

"The Senator is a good man."

"He's a politician and you can't trust them, in public or private."

The man next to Thomas sniggered and Thomas elbowed him as the cab pulled to a halt. Thomas pushed the man toward the door, forcing it open. He stumbled slightly but held the door open for John and Anna, followed closely by Thomas.

John craned his head back to take in the roof of the large house nestled in the quiet neighborhood. "I think I'm tired of seeing how the other half lives."

"You'll get more tired of it once you're inside." Thomas nudged John in the middle of his back, "Move."

John and Anna climbed the stairs toward the door, only to have it open before they reached it. An older man stepped back, welcoming them inside, and sniffed at Thomas. Thomas scowled at the man before he led the trio toward a set of double doors.

Pushing them open the man ushered the three inside. John turned back but the doors closed with a snap in his face. He shook his head and turned toward the sound of laughter behind him. Sitting in three cushioned leather chairs around a table were Carlisle, Crowborough, and Sinderby.

"Welcome Detective Bates, Doctor Smith, it's a pleasure to have you."

"Is it?" John shrugged, "Not feeling like an honored guest if it is a pleasure."

"Well, the Trinity works differently than most."

"The Trinity?" John narrowed his eyes, "What does that mean?"

"They're the Trinity." Anna pointed to them, "The decision makers of New York City."

"Guilty as charged." Carlisle smiled, "I'm sure you don't mind us bringing you here for a discussion in that regard."

Anna snorted, "I forgot, the Trinity likes to occasionally take matters into their own hands."

"It saves us time and trouble Doctor." Carlisle snubbed out a cigarette while Crowborough blew smoke rings with his large cigar and Sinderby only scowled from the end of the table. "One should never leave the running of the world to the average man. Too much can go wrong."

"I'm sure." John sighed, "Too much risk in trusting the average man is there?"

"The average man is a fool, Detective," Sinderby interjected, "We can't trust anything to him."

"Yes, I doubt very much you trust the average man." Anna stepped forward and pointed to a seat, "I hope you don't mind but I plan to sit if I'm going to be subjected to your company."

"We're not barbarians Doctor," Crowborough laughed and John could almost feel the sweet oil to his voice. "We brought you here under no pretense of violence. This is a friendly chat."

"Then reserve a room at a nice restaurant and send a note like civilized people." Anna harped and opened her hands to the men, "What do you want?"

"We want you to realize, with all your available faculties, that you need to give over on this investigation."

"Why?" John took a seat of his own and refused the man who offered him a cigarette. "It's not like our investigation is any threat to you."

"Then you fail to see the larger vision." Crowborough blew out to the side before snubbing out his cigar in a silver ashtray. "How does a Senator, from the great state of New York, stand on a platform of any importance in Washington when he can't seem to keep his city under control?"

"I would've thought leaving a killer with six women dead would threaten that position more than allowing us to do our jobs."

"Doctor Smith," Crowborough gave a condescending laugh, "It's not really your job though, is it?"

Anna glared and John cut in, "But it is my job. How'll you bring in new enterprise to a city with a serial killer running riot in your backyard?"

"Every city has their problems. We simply accept this is one of ours."

"But it doesn't have to be." John defended, "I don't know what you think you gain by allowing the killer to roam free."

"Balance. There will always be the parts of society that want to watch the world burn but there's been suggestions, from naturalists, that sometimes fire is the purifying effect we need." Sinderby adjusted his cuffs at the other end of the table, "Leave this killer alone and solve other crimes."

"And keep the people cowed and scared?" Anna pointed to Sinderby, Carlisle, and Crowborough in their turn. "They then elect men determined to make change to protect them, trust in their violently oppressive slum lords, and give their children to the care of heartless educators? Is that what I'm hearing?"

"Doctor-"

"No," Anna shook her head, "You haven't brought us here to reason with you but to cow us to your frame of mind because you feel that your positions, your investments, and your bloody work is fueled by the fear someone like this brings."

"Any threats to our positions will trickle down to effect others, Doctor." Carlisle shrugged, "Perhaps even you."

"If this is the moment you say it was you who gave me the college grant then I'll throw it back in your face and tell you where you can stuff it."

Carlisle laughed, "You won't be laughing so hard when we tell you Mr. Sinderby here is willing to hear you out about the Hebrew children."

"Not if the cost is justice for those women."

"I don't think you're listening Doctor," John heard the edge to Crowborough's tone as he stood, pacing the room. "We're telling you it's in your best interest to leave this investigation, right now, without turning back to gain possible gains you can't even imagine but you're so insistent that we're the evil ones you're not seeing the big picture."

"What picture is that?" John cut in before Anna could. "What are we not seeing about this particular situation, Senator, because I disagree with your position on why we should step away?"

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because I worked Five Points during the boy whore riots." John noted the way Sinderby shuddered and Crowborough twitched. "People don't stay docile while their children are being murdered if the police aren't doing anything. Even Mr. Carlisle used that against us with that pseudo-mob he sicked on us at the hospital."

"What's your suggestion then, Detective?"

"Let us do our work and the city won't burn down around your ears, that's what I'm suggesting." John sat back, "It's your choice but I'd suggest you let us do our work in peace and stop sending your hitman after us."

All three men paused. They exchanged looks before Crowborough laughed, "What hitman, Detective?"

"The Wraith." John watched their confused faces, "I know, from a source I trust and personal experience, that the Wraith is in New York and I want to know why you hired him to come after us."

"I didn't hire him." Crowborough retook his seat, "Maybe you should talk to any of your mafia leaders or the men over at Tammany Hall."

"It's not them."

"It's not us." Sinderby gruffed, "We're men of honor."

"I'm sure that phrase brings you comfort at night." Anna sneered, "But honor's got little to do with the hiring of a sniper."

"If we wanted you dead, Doctor, we'd give you some cement shoes and send you to walk the river bottom." Carlisle crossed his legs, "This hitman's not our doing."

"Besides," Crowborough cut in, "We'd never resort to killing you because one never knows when a hired killer'll turn on you. I don't want to risk thinking I made a friend who might one day paint my back with my blood."

"That's smart thinking but I'm finding it hard to believe that the concerted efforts between the three of you," John gestured around the table, "To stop this investigation ends just short of you hiring a hitman to make sure we stop being the thorns in your side."

"It's amusing you think of yourself as serious concerns for us."

"You brought us here in a show of power didn't you." Anna smirked and John bit back his own grin.

Crowborough got serious. "The truth is, Doctor and Detective, you're nothing to us. Those women are nothing to us. There's nothing of importance about this meeting and history'll forget it just as quickly as it sneezed over numerous other things. You're here for us to warn you about what happens if you don't stop."

"Maybe." John shrugged, "But you're trying to stop the dominos falling because of what we, and those women, represent."

"What's that?"

"Change." John stood, "Thank you, gentlemen, for your efforts this afternoon but we've got an investigation to attend to and we've got no more time for you."

Anna joined him by the door as Carlisle called out to them, "If you walk out that door you choose the consequences of your actions."

John looked at Anna before turning back to them, "Yes we do because we're going to catch whoever is killing these women. You can either be a part of that or you can stand in the way of it. Whatever consequences follow our pursuit of justice are what they are."

"You're very sure of that, Detective."

"It's the surety of the righteous, Senator." John nodded, "Afternoon, gentlemen. I do hope you don't bother us again."


	17. Nothing Besides Remains

John returned to the precinct, after depositing Anna at the Institute, and saw Talbot posting the new photos on the board. He jerked a thumb toward them as John entered, "It's a little late but I thought better late than never."

"Exactly Mr. Talbot." John shook his head at the photographs, "Never gets easier."

"Never." Talbot tapped a random picture, "But I actually spoke with Doctor Moseley about the body."

"Why?"

"I had a question about something I noted at the crime scene." Talbot opened his hands, "Wooden shards that didn't match the crates in the alley."

"Crime scene investigator now?" John smiled at Talbot, who shrugged.

"You pick up a few skills." Talbot searched the photographs and pulled the one he wanted, "Doctor Moseley postulated it was from a cane. Said he and Doctor Smith thought a cane or a rod but when he continued his examination, after Doctor Smith left, he's sure it was a cane."

"Why?"

"Said it was longer, thinner than a Billy club, and the bruising around the entrance matches what you'd find from beatings inflicted with the head of a cane." Talbot blew out, "Much cheaper quality than I usually find this side of town but I noticed something about the wooden shards that he confirmed."

"What?"

"They're old. Old enough not to be a cane made recently."

"Anything specific sending you in that direction?"

"The wood. It's European and been extinct for a few years. That means the cane is either an heirloom or a set piece. Now, I don't know about you but most families I know with heirlooms aren't in the habit of using them to… well, you get my point."

"Do you have any ideas where one would acquire a disposable cane old enough to fit your theory?"

"I do." Talbot pulled a pamphlet from his pocket and handed it over, "There is a set that happens to be the central pieces of a fashion exhibit a lady friend of mine referred me to last weekend."

"She dragged you to this?"

"It was all paid in kind." Talbot smirked and John laughed.

"Really?"

"I go over well with the ladies, Detective." Talbot pulled a sketch from the pile, "Between the Doctor and myself I think we got a rough sketch of the kind of cane you're looking for."

"The weapon he used for the rape?"

Talbot nodded, sobering, "The act in and of itself is bad enough but to do that… I can't even fathom it."

"Our killer's a particular kind of evil Mr. Talbot."

"That he is, Detective." Talbot stood, "If you're free I could take you to the exhibit myself."

"I think we've both got an appointment to keep then Mr. Talbot." John headed to the door, "Unless you're busy right now."

"Not too busy for this." Talbot grinned then caught himself, "Pardon my enthusiasm sir but I don't usually get to leave the precinct for this sort of thing."

"If only it were under better circumstances."

"If only, sir."

Talbot grabbed his jacket and they hailed a cab, heading uptown toward the museums. John shuffled in the seat and Talbot chuckled to himself. Raising an eyebrow John spoke.

"Something to say, Mr. Talbot?"

"Just that you're not comfortable around wealth, are you sir?"

John shrugged, "I grew up in Five Points and until the other day I lived on the edge of it. Before I took this job, going on three weeks ago, I'd never imagined the kind of money people sit on."

"Never?"

"Not outside of storybooks."

Talbot shrugged, "My family is what you'd call upper middle class but that just means we've got enough money to snub our noses at the middle class but not enough to avoid the condescension of the upper class."

"What drew you to photography for the precinct then?"

"The depression." Talbot took a breath, "My family rode it out better than most we knew but when there was unemployment that took more than one in every three people's jobs I realized I needed to do more with my life than photograph women in lovely dresses for photoplays and newspapers."

"Did you work for Michael Gregson?"

"I did. Tom's actually the one who referred me over to Chief Crawley so I could get the job I have now."

"Mr. Branson is a man of unforeseen talent."

Talbot nodded, "He's a good man. Dependable and intelligent. The only flaw I see in his character is he tends to speak his mind a little more quickly than is always healthy for him."

"Isn't it the flaw in us all?" John leaned back against the seat, "If you know Mr. Branson so well then you must know the Crawleys."

"I do now. I get invited to this and that where they're attending and I've spoken a fair bit with Matthew Crawley who is, if I may say, one of the best people I think I've ever met."

"Can't say I've exchanged more than a few words with him."

"He's a genius."

John leaned forward, "Why'd you say that?"

"You remember the credit crisis two years ago?"

"Hard to forget." John shuddered, "We had our work cut out for us after that with rioting and pillaging. It was the bloody dark ages for weeks of policing."

"It tends to be difficult to maintain one's morals when there's no food on the table or in the belly."

John nodded, "And many a mother would rather suffocate her own children then hear them crying for the bread she hasn't got to feed them." He paused, "But what does that have to do with Matthew Crawley?"

"He and Mary escaped the crisis by planning ahead. Right about the time of the census and election scandals of '90 they diversified their asset holdings. Everyone thought they were fools but Matthew invested in industry and agriculture, expanding out instead of down into companies."

"Saved himself then?"

"Saved a great many people."

John clicked this tongue against his teeth, "What about Senator Crowborough? Did he escape the crisis unscathed?"

"No one escaped unscathed but the rumor I heard, which I take with about a pound of salt given I only run the periphery of those circles, was he lost a large chunk of his fortune. He's running on fumes at this point trying to scrape enough together just to live his life after he spent so much gaining reelection."

"And he'll get it back?"

"If you believe Tom's stories then he'll get it all back by scalping the poor who owe him favors but it's just robbing Peter to pay Paul if you know what I mean."

"He's in deep with the wrong kinds of people."

"At this point, for him, anyone's the wrong kind of people." Talbot shrugged, "But like I said, it's all conjecture and more than a bit of nasty rumor trying to ruin a man."

"The question is whether or not he deserves to be ruined."

They got out of the carriage and Talbot paid the man before leading John up the steps of the museum. John pulled the pamphlet from his pocket as they entered, reading over the information while Talbot weaved them through the sparse afternoon crowds. Upon reaching their destination, Talbot gestured to the first display.

"Something like this."

John stepped toward the glass, bending slightly to inspect the wood. "Do you know who curated the exhibit?"

"That would be me." Both men turned to see the man Anna identified as Bricker at the Blakes' first party. "Simon Bricker, curator of this museum."

"John Bates," John shook his hand, "Mr. Talbot here was telling me about this exhibit and recommended it highly."

"Did he?" Bricker's buggy eyes widened, which John had not thought possible, and inclined his head toward Talbot. "I shall take that with the greatest of compliments that a New York police detective and his photographer are taking time from their busy schedules to inspect my humble contribution to art."

John ground the back of his teeth, "Do you take particular affront to how we use our time here, Mr. Bricker?"

"On the contrary, I find it highly flattering that you would suspend your work on such a notorious case to look at women's clothing and men's accessories from the War of Northern Aggression."

"I didn't take you for a Southerner, Mr. Bricker."

"I'm from London, actually, but a strong advocate for the cause of the unjustly treated."

"And how is your advocacy for the six women raped and murdered in your backyard, Mr. Bricker?" John took Bricker's attention and watched the man's face drain of color slightly. "Surely, as a man supporting lost causes you have something to say on that front."

"I think whoever is responsible for it is a monster but then I also know that we cannot control the risks one takes in the flesh trade."

"And how deep have your pockets gone in the flesh trade?"

"Or your cane?" John and Bricker looked up to see Talbot, hands in his pockets, nodding toward a cane in one of the displays, "I don't remember seeing this one last week."

"It was a new addition. Donated quite recently."

"As in this morning?" Talbot ducked under the rope and removed his handkerchief from his pocket to lift the cane gingerly out of its cup. "Right model but not the one."

"What do you mean? How dare you handle that." Bricker moved toward him but John put a hand on his shoulder, pulling the weedy man backward. "I demand to know what's going on here."

"We're investigating the potential reality that you, Mr. Bricker, are killing prostitutes." John lowered his mouth to Bricker's ear, whispering, "So unless you want to have this conversation here, I'd suggest you allow Mr. Talbot and I a minute alone with you in your office."

"Will I be coming out again?" John raised an eyebrow. "I'd hate to find out your pocket has a pair of brass knuckles in it and I'm either facing them or a noose for the convenience of your case."

"We don't use brass knuckles to beat confessions from people and if this case were convenient I wouldn't be here." John released his shoulder, "Your office, Mr. Bricker. Quick as you can."

Bricker grumbled as Talbot replaced the cane as gingerly as possible, winking to the ladies nearby, before following them through the exhibit and back to a hidden door in the wall. They passed into the darker corridor beyond and John coughed on the dust and age that suffocated the passage. The low light made it perpetual dusk and when Bricker finally showed them his office John wished they had just found a private corner in the exhibit.

Piles of books, papers, and pieces scattered over the room. One chair, stacked high with periodicals and journals, sat beside the desk while the other wobbled on cracked legs. Bricker pushed through a well-worn path to his seat on a swivel chair and sat while Talbot immediately scanned the room.

"I thought men who organized museums were far more put together than this." He pointed about them, "Kind of a fire waiting to happen isn't it?"

"This office is lit by gas in the walls. There's no open flame here."

"Safe I'd imagine." Talbot eyed the wobbly chair before shaking his head to stand in the corner.

"Aren't you going to ask me any questions?" Bricker's voice edged with annoyance and Talbot laughed.

"I'm the photographer, Mr. Bricker. I don't ask questions. I'm here to look, not speak."

"The questions will be mine, Mr. Bricker." John pointed back toward Talbot, "The cane he touched earlier, were there any others donated this morning?"

"It was part of a set of four."

"Can anyone else verify that someone donated them?"

"If you're asking for an alibi then no." Bricker rolled his shoulders, pulling at his suit coat. "I came in early, as I always do, and I'm alone for at least two hours if you don't count the custodians."

"I'm guessing you don't."

Bricker snorted, "Men pushing around brooms to spread dust all over the floor. They've little care for the art or the exhibits and only chatter away in whatever immigrant dialect they brought with them from whatever filthy country they should go back to."

"I'm sure the irony of you being an immigrant is lost in that statement."

Bricker glared at Talbot, "I was requested to come here and curate. I'm an expert in my field, Mr. Talbot. I can't say the same for you."

"I never put any claim to superiority in that regard."

"There are those born to greatness, Mr. Talbot." Bricker took his palm to his hair, smoothing down the side. "Others only wish they could achieve it."

"That's not the quote." Talbot went to argue further but John stopped him.

"Mr. Bricker, what do you know about the six murdered women?"

"Other than that your precinct has done nothing to stop the guilty party?" Bricker sniffed, "Nothing. Those are women of the night, Mr. Bates. I don't associate with that kind."

"And the killer?"

"If you haven't caught him then I know no more about him than you seem to."

John smiled, "I'm fascinated by the fact that you believe it to be a man. If, as you say, you don't know more than we do about the killer."

"You said it was a man. Called him 'he'."

"No," Talbot wagged his finger and John noted the sweat that broke out on Bricker's forehead, "He said 'killer', no sex implied."

"I-" Bricker stood, pulling at his waistcoat, "I'll not sit here in my office and have you throw about accusations."

"No one's accused you of anything, Mr. Bricker, and the option is between your office and a lovely interrogation room at the precinct." John stepped toward Bricker and the other man stumbled slightly back, knocking into a pile of papers. "Your choice."

"Actually," Talbot stepped forward, "I'd like to see the other canes he received as donations for the exhibit this morning."

"Sounds like a fine idea." John put a hand on Bricker's collar and pulled him along. "Why don't you show us where you're keeping those."

"They're not ready for display." Bricker complained but winced under the pressure from John's fingers.

"Then we're getting a preview. Want to make sure they're ready for the public don't we?" John pressed Bricker forward, "Now please, Mr. Bricker."

They entered the stifling hall again and Bricker guided them to another door where three people dusted, shined, and painted different pieces. Bricker waved them back to their work before steering toward a table near the back. He stopped just short of it and waved his hands at the contents.

"Those are the other three. They didn't go with the décor I arranged so we were planning on a rotation with the fourth one Mr. Talbot almost ruined with his antics."

"I was careful." Talbot bent over the three canes. "I am an appreciator of fine art."

"Not sure you could understand it."

"I had education in art, Mr. Bricker." Talbot carefully lifted one of the canes, inspecting it in the light before replacing it. "I know what I'm talking about almost as well as yourself."

"You're a police photographer."

"That's not always what I was nor what I'll always be." Talbot lifted the second cane and whistled, "Just as you may not be a curator at this establishment for much longer."

"I beg your pardon." Talbot carefully balanced the cane on his handkerchief-covered palm to show John. "I think we found our blunt object for the post-mortem rape."

John examined the end, noting the wooden shards stripped of paint and the head of the cane that matched the rough sketch Talbot had shown him at the precinct. He sighed and turned to Bricker, "That's not a good sign, Mr. Bricker."

"I told you. Those were donated this morning."

"Or perhaps they've been here waiting, the whole time, for someone to use them." John directed Talbot to take it and others back to the precinct. "Tell me, why blonde women?"

Bricker's eyes darted to either side before he flipped a tray at John. John raised an arm, shielding his face from a splash of liquid. It sizzled on his jacket and John whipped it off as Bricker tore from the room.

Tossing the jacket to Talbot John raced after him, dodging around the frightened restoration workers, and skidding on the floor in the hallway. He caught a glimpse of Bricker heading for the hidden door back to the museum main floor and tried to gain traction on the floor to catch him. The door bounced off the wall as John burst through it. Shouts of indignation and women's shrieks caught his attention and John headed in that direction, trying to avoid colliding with anyone.

As he turned a corner it was unavoidable and John smacked into another man. He struggled to standing, leaving the man spitting and cursing in his wake, John made it out the front doors. The traffic on the road bustled and he balled his fists at the scene before him.

Bricker was gone.

* * *

Talbot and John stood in front of Chief Crawley, the cane on his desk. Chief Crawley shook his head at it before addressing them. "You're telling me the curator of the museum ran off?"

"He spilled some kind of acid on me and then made a break for it. I lost him in the crowd after colliding with someone entering the museum doors." John winced, rubbing his leg to stop another spasm. "I've got Alfred and James interviewing the remainder of his staff to see if we could find him and Inspector Carson is tearing through Bricker's home as we speak."

"More like methodically inspecting every inch of it." Chief Crawley groaned, "We'll be lucky if we get our Inspector back before the end of the week the way he leaves no stone unturned."

"Dedication to be rewarded sir?" Talbot quirked and then quieted when Chief Crawley glared at him. "Sorry sir."

"What were you doing there anyway Talbot? You're not an investigator or a detective."

"I needed Mr. Talbot's eyes." John pointed to the cane. "He and Doctor Moseley were the ones to work out the kind of object we were looking for and if not for Mr. Talbot's experience we wouldn't have found the cane in the first place."

"Hm," Chief Crawley nodded, "I guess then it's gratitude I should be expressing to you, is it Talbot?"

"I wouldn't presume to say what you should express to me sir."

"Get out Talbot."

"Yes sir." Talbot winked at John and left the office.

Chief Crawley gestured to the seat before him and John sat in it, stretching his leg. "Running a bit more than you're used to?"

"On this case I think I've done a great many things I'm not used to." John sighed, "I didn't think Bricker would be the one."

"Was he a suspect?"

"He had possibility but after the methodical way this killer works Bricker's not the one."

"What makes you so sure?"

"His office is a fire trap of disorganization." John sighed, "We're looking for someone with an almost compulsive need to control their environment and Bricker is not that kind of man."

"Then you think Bricker's what? A red herring?" Chief Crawley shook his head, "Honest men don't run from the law, John. They help catch killers."

"Maybe Bricker was running from something else."

"Like what?"

"Maybe the real killer."

"Did he, in any way, indicate that would be the case?"

John held up his hands, "Other than fear he didn't have a chance to indicate anything to us."

"For now, John, we need to proceed as if he's guilty. Guilty men run."

"The Indians ran from us sir."

Chief Crawley tightened his jaw, "That was different."

"Prey, when frightened, run sir."

"John," Chief Crawley's voice cut through further argument, "We're proceeding as if Mr. Simon Bricker is guilty of these crimes and treating him as a criminal."

"Because of his advances toward your wife?"

Chief Crawley slammed his hand on his desk, "That was out of line."

"So is accusing an innocent man."

"You thought him guilty."

"I thought he might be guilty. I was searching for proof as to whether or not he was."

Chief Crawley opened his arms, "And this isn't it?"

"No sir."

"Detective I'll say this once," Chief Crawley raised a finger, "Leave this where it is. We present Bricker as our killer and we find him so he can confess. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir." John stood and had a hand toward the door handle when it opened. He stepped back to avoid being hit by it and kept a tight clench to his jaw when Senator Crowborough entered the office.

"Senator," Chief Crawley stood, "To what do we owe this honor?"

"This case," Senator Crowborough dropped a paper on the table between them, barely acknowledging John by the door.

"We're in pursuit of a suspect we believe is the guilty party."

"Oh," Crowborough laughed but it was all condescension, "I've heard about your Detective's mad dash through the museum in pursuit of the wiry curator."

He turned to John, pointing his cane at him, "I guess the Police should institute a physical statute so you actually have a chance of catching your quarry next time."

"Speed wasn't the issue."

Crowborough gave a tight smile, "I'm sure that's never your issue Detective." He turned back to Chief Crawley, "It's the opinion of myself, and a few other friends I've collected at City Hall and Mr. Roosevelt's office, that perhaps you should leave this investigation where it is."

"Excuse me?" Chief Crawley stood, "There are women being killed."

"Prostitutes, Chief Crawley, the scum we scrape from our shoes not the people we mourn at church funerals."

"I seem to remember my Sunday School teacher telling me that Jesus loved the tax collectors and the prostitutes in equal measure." John spoke up, "Wouldn't that mean we're supposed to care about their death the way we'd care about yours, Senator?"

Crowborough opened his mouth, "Are you threatening me, Detective?"

"If I threaten you, Senator, you won't have to ask."

Crowborough's jaw flexed, a red tinge matching the narrowing of his eyes before he turned to Chief Crawley. "Stop this investigation before you further embarrass this precinct and yourself, Chief Crawley. That's the word I've come to pass down to you."

"Senator," Chief Crawley smiled at him but John saw how it did not reach his eyes, "As kind as I expect this offer is meant to be, I'll have to decline."

"Excuse me?"

"You see, you're neither the Commissioner nor are you the Mayor. You're jurisdiction does not extend to this precinct or any of my operations therein. Therefore," Chief Crawley towered over the man, "Get the hell out."

"You'd risk the peace of this city to find someone ridding the world of prostitutes?"

"I'd risk anything to find whatever degenerate parades around in a fancy suit while pretending to do good in the world." Chief Crawley pointed to the door, "The door is there, Senator. Don't let it hit your ass on the way out."

Crowborough snorted and left the room, risking a scowl at John before leaving the precinct. When the door banged in the hold John turned to Chief Crawley. The man pointed a finger at him.

"Find Simon Bricker before that man comes back to ruin all of us."

* * *

John massaged his leg, lifted on the bed as Anna finished her evening ablutions and crawled into bed at his side. She kissed his cheek and settled back against the pillows, "Not the honeymoon I was expecting."

"Which part?" John laid back, stretching his leg. "The one where you and I were abducted by the Holy Trinity and threatened with our lives and livelihoods, the one where I chased a curator from his own museum, or the part where Senator Crowborough decided to flex his political reach at us?"

"Any of it." Anna adjusted in bed, straddling John's leg. When he went to stop her she put a finger on his lips. "It's not funny business, Mr. Bates, it's a massage. It'll make it so you're not twitching and groaning in your sleep."

John sat back as Anna dug her hands into the muscle of his leg. He grimaced, "Not so hard."

"Better hard now than too sore tomorrow for you to walk." Anna crushed her knuckles into the tissue. "What about Bricker?"

"Well Carson found out that Bricker's life story is a lie. The accent, the story about a request to come over from London, all of it's a crock."

"Really?"

"He's almost as much a Five Pointer as I am." John cried out when Anna got her fingers deep into the muscle. "Easy on."

"I thought you liked it rough John." Anna teased and John reached forward, tickling her until she giggled and called surrender. "I won't, I promise."

John leaned back, pulling Anna with him, "How did I get so lucky to have you?"

"I could ask the same." Anna shifted to John's side, "What else did you find out about Mr. Bricker?"

"Now who's bringing another man into the bed?" John faked a surprised gasp but Anna only nudged him over with her shoulder.

"It's my turn. Now, carry on, what else?"

"Turns out he's from a little shanty town near the docks. Gained his reputation by working his way up from being a custodian of a smaller gallery and moved his way up." John snorted, "And the condescending way he was talking to Talbot when he's the fake."

"People lie to hide." Anna shook her head, "And I thought his accent was legitimate."

"Didn't we all?" They laid back in silence a moment and John pulled Anna so her head was under his chin. "But that's where it's got us."

"I guess sometimes we get comfortable in our lies."

"I never did." John sighed and Anna moved to look at him.

"What'd you mean?"

"Vera. My marriage to her was a lie in the end. It was from the beginning but I didn't see it. I was blinded by so much I missed it."

"We all get blinded. Be it by comfort or by pain."

"Not anymore because you're my comfort and you're where I feel safe." John kissed Anna's hands, "I've never felt more at home than I do with you."

"And me with you John." Anna kissed him and settled back on his shoulder. John laughed and Anna raised an eyebrow, "Something to add?"

"Not how I expected to spend my wedding night."

"Your second one you mean?"

John tickled Anna again and she fought him back but stopped halfway, holding John's hands in hers. John smiled but noted Anna's eyes were far away. He pulled back, "Anna?"

"I just-" Anna held up a finger before pushing her way out of bed and hurrying to get dressed.

"Anna?" John got up as well, "You're acting like someone yelled 'fire'."

"Where would you go if you felt threatened?"

"What?"

"If you felt frightened and people were after you, where would you go?"

John shrugged, "Somewhere I felt safe."

"Somewhere you knew well that no one else knew as well as you?"

"Sure but-" John chuckled, "You're not planning on running away are you?"

"No, but Mr. Bricker has and I think I know where he's gone." Anna threw John some trousers, "Come on Mr. Bates. We're going to find him."

John dressed and followed Anna out to the pavement, hailing a cab. Anna gave the directions, John clarifying a few details, and they were off. John shook his head and Anna laughed.

"Regretting marrying me Mr. Bates? I'm sure if you are we can break into the Registry and tear up the form. It was just this afternoon."

"No, I just wonder if Chief Crawley can bear to keep me on when you're better at my job than I am."

"I doubt that." She huffed, "If anything I only had the idea because you said something."

"But you connected the dots."

"If we keep finding ways to praise one another the end result is that we realize we're excellent partners." Anna shrugged, "Maybe we should leave our professions and start an investigation service of our own."

"What? 'Bates Investigates'?"

Anna frowned, "Don't like it?"

John shook his head, beaming, "Anything I do with you is worth it to me."

They rocked in the carriage to the edges of the shantytown and Anna beat John out the door. He paid the driver and adjusted his hat as Anna interlaced her fingers. She stood still but for her shaking head.

"How do people live like this?"

"It's all they've got and people are determined to survive." John pointed toward the entrance, almost indistinguishable from the tin and wood around them. "It reminds me of something Mr. Talbot said this afternoon."

"What?"

"He said that it's hard to maintain one's morals when there's no food on the table or in the belly." John lifted the board and climbed in, holding it up for Anna to follow. "These are people hanging by a thread to the little humanity left."

"But to leave them here?" Anna pointed at it, the dark and twisted way painted by the occasional fire or cry in the dark. "If Bricker was from here why abandon it. He must've had something he left behind."

"No one wants to be reminded of where they came from when it's this." John went to walk forward but a large man appeared from the shadows to stand in his way. "Please let us by."

"You're not from around here."

"No but we're looking for someone." John went to walk forward but the man was joined by a few others, men and women, all blocking their path. "He's a suspect in a series of killings."

"The whore murders got nothing to do with us."

"We don't want trouble," Anna cut in. "We're here for a man named Simon Bricker. He might know something and that's all we're here for: information."

"We don't care what you want." A woman spit at Anna and it took her hand on John's arm to stop him approaching the woman. "We don't like coppers here and we've got nothing to say to you. Be gone before you're in some hurt."

"You don't care that you might be harboring a murderer?" John saw the faces, gaunt and almost skull-like in the poor lighting.

One of the men laughed, "We're all murderers here, haven't you heard?"

"We don't believe that." Anna tried to interject but the man talked over her.

"We're nothing here but the scum of the earth and what's left of everything else. Be on your way before you're two more faceless bodies floating in the river."

John considered challenging the man but just shook his head and motioned for Anna to follow him. She went back through the board first and John followed, letting it swing for a moment before turning away. Anna waited for him at the edge of the pavement and they walked back toward the more lighted streets to find a carriage.

"You'd think they'd want to help get a murderer."

"Not with how police have treated them in the past." John motioned toward the community. "They're down to nothing and so they've nothing to lose."

"They scrape together remains then?" John nodded and Anna shook her head, "Even for as long as I've studied people and the mind, I can never understand those who just give up. Who let the world take them and do as it pleases with them."

"Because you've always had something to fight for." John shook his head at the shantytown. "Nothing besides remains for them."


	18. Round the Decay

John blinked in the weak light and turned to see Anna, her head on his chest, breathing steadily. He stroked his fingers down her nightgown, accidently bunching the fabric slightly at her back. Shifting, John pulled the nightgown slowly up Anna's back to expose her smooth skin before tracing the pads of his fingers down it.

A change in Anna's breath alerted John to her waking and her little snigger had his chest rising in a matching laugh. "Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Bates?"

"Well I was going to seduce you last night, Mrs. Bates, but you decided we should risk a shantytown to find Bricker instead."

Anna kissed up John's chest to see his face, her nightgown dropping down to cover John's hand as it continued stroking over the skin of her ass. "And you're endeavoring to finish what you started last night?"

"If you're of a mind to it?"

Anna made a face, focusing on her finger drawing shapes over his bare chest. "Why would I deny my husband the chance to seduce me now that we're man and wife when I wasn't inclined to it before you put a ring on my finger?"

John grinned, kissing her quickly, and moved over the bed to drag Anna to sit against the headboard. She settled back on the pillows as John adjusted himself between her legs and pulled her nightgown up her body. Anna lifted it over her head, dropping the fabric to the side and winking at John so she could match her own saucy smile.

Wagging a finger at her, John chided, "I wouldn't act so self-assured, Mrs. Bates. You don't know what I've in mind."

"Your threats only work if I'm afraid of them." Anna leaned forward on her knees, licking her lips. "I'm only excited."

"I know." John pushed her back, running his fingers over her face.

"How'd you know, John?" Anna's voice whispered as John dotted kisses over her jaw.

"I hear it in your breathing." His hand glided down her right arm, interlacing their fingers a moment. "I see it in the way your eyes dilate."

"Do they?" Anna turned her head so John could see how she studied his face. "Your eyes are almost black."

"I hope so." John brushing his lips down the column of her throat toward her collarbones. "The way I feel your blood moving through your body I know you're on the border of fear that excitement straddles."

"Does it?" Her voice rose higher as John dragged her own fingers, still interlaced with his, over the skin of her stomach to flit just on the top of her folds.

"If I place my ear here," John kissed where her heart thumped just above her left breast, "I could sing a song to the tune your body plays for me."

"Won't you?"

"No," John dragged back, his lips barely gracing over her breasts before sitting an arm's length away.

"No?"

"No," John shook his head, smiling at Anna's confusion before tripping the fingers of his free hand over the rising blush in her cheeks. "You will."

Anna gasped her answer as John eased one of her own fingers through her glistening folds. His hand slid up to her wrist, guiding her hand at its work, and pulled back to watch. She stuttered at her work a moment, staring at John, before gathering her courage from his expression.

Spreading her legs wider, Anna uncurled another finger to drive into herself while her thumb flicked restlessly over the nerves at the top of her core. John leaned his hands on her legs, massaging her thighs up and down in time with the work of her fingers, and only stopping slightly when she risked another finger inside herself.

The catch in her breath, panting replacing her previously even breathing, signaled John to guide her other hand to a new position. He shifted it up from her grasping clutch of the sheets to hold her own breast. Already adept at her pleasure between her legs, Anna took just as quickly to the manipulation of her own breasts. With pinches and flicks her voice rose higher and higher until the cry echoed from the back of her throat.

John waited a moment, listening for Anna's breathing to even. He removed her hand from her breast, kissing over it before lathering her reddened breasts with the attentions of his mouth. Anna's lungs hitched again and John smiled around her nipple before suckling it to hear her shriek.

Anna's other hand, still caught in the writhing and clenching of her inner walls, relinquished control to John. Letting her breast slip from his lips to shine in the light with evidence of his mouth's work there, John brought her dripping fingers to his lips. He met Anna's eyes and sucked her digits into his mouth.

The groan she gave thickened John's arousal and he shuffled on the bed, looking for temporarily relief. Even in her rapture Anna reached a hand forward, tightening her free hand over his pulsing erection. John gasped around Anna's fingers. He rutted into her grasp a moment, trying to control himself, but Anna drew him forward while sliding down the bed toward him.

Locking her leg over his hip Anna pulled him forward by her grip on his arousal. John surrendered to her hold, arms coming to splay his hands on either side of her head, and leaned over her while her hips thrust to rub herself over him. He closed his eyes, moaning at the feel of her slick self sliding over him.

With a giggle Anna wrapped a hand on the back of his neck, forcing his eyes open again. "Did I sing for you Mr. Bates?"

"Very well," John rutted against her, just barely breaching her.

"Then," Anna struggled to gain enough control not to close her own eyes at the feel of him. "Will you sing for me?"

John answered by sliding deep into Anna. Her neck arched as she threw her head back and John placed his loving adoration there in the form of kisses. Nails clawed over his shoulders and down his back, tracing his muscles with rivulets that edged his pleasure with enough pain to drive the sensations higher.

The sheets crumpled in his grip under her, hips meeting with a loud rhythm to echo about them in the room. Singing together their bodies matched the gasps and groaned only filling their ears to drive them faster. Anna's body twisted and writhed to compliment the driving piston of John's hips, bending so John could hit that spot inside her that sent her voice rising higher and higher.

John balanced up on a hand, smothering her face in kisses she met with as much energy as she could manage, and pressed over her center. Her fingers joined him, those not occupied with molding the flesh of his ass, and her peak broke their kiss with a call of John's name. With the pant of her finishing note John thrust a few more times before his body released.

They laid together, sweat running down John's back, and Anna smiled at him. John kissed her cheek, her hand, and then her lips. Pulling back he grinned.

"Was that worth the wait, Mrs. Bates?"

"I feel very much comforted with the fact that now I'm fully your wife."

"Good and proper."

"Yes." Anna took a single finger, tracing it over his arm, "We are now who were always meant to be."

"I am whenever I'm with you." John settled back, Anna slotting her head on his shoulder. "Though I don't know how we're going to do this."

"Do what?"

"Pretend we're not who we are now."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Anna turned her head up at the chiming of the clock in the corner. "I think we'll have to start our day now."

"I thought we already did." John grinned and Anna batted at him with a pillow.

"Cheeky monkey."

* * *

John dodged a few running children and nodded his head toward Ms. Baxter as he pointed to Anna's office door. "Is she busy?"

"Finishing up an interview with some parents." Ms. Baxter sighed, "They're daughter's quite addled of the mind. I think they'll have to commit her."

"Is there nothing to be done?"

"Not with what we have here." Ms. Baxter nodded toward John, "And how goes the case, if I may ask Detective?"

"You may and not as well as I'd like." John pointed at her, "I do have to thank you Ms. Baxter."

"Why's that?"

"You're insight into the possible origins of our killer's habits. We found a Ms. Denker who provided us some rather necessary information."

"And how is Ms. Denker?" John shifted his jaw and Ms. Baxter opened her mouth slightly, nodding in understanding. "I see."

"I'm so sorry Ms. Baxter."

"She's at peace now, Detective, and life afforded her so little of that I can't say I'm completely distraught that she's passed on to a world where she'll be free of this mortal coil."

"It doesn't take away the sting of it."

"Nothing's supposed to Detective. We wouldn't value it otherwise." The door opened and the parents, both looking rather gray in the face, exited. "Excuse me Detective."

John waved her on as Ms. Baxter directed her entire attentions to the parents. A sigh at his shoulder had John looking down to face Anna. She held her arms close to her body, nodding in the direction of the parents.

"There's nothing worse than admitting you've done all you can."

"But at least you tried."

Anna shrugged a shoulder, "You're far more forgiving of yourself than I am of myself, Detective, if that's the case."

"Not for our case, Doctor." John pointed to the interior of the office and Anna stepped aside to allow him in, shutting the door. "I'm afraid I don't have much time and I know your schedule is rather full for the day."

"Then I'd suggest we both get right to the point."

"Senator Crowborough has made his hand a little clearer." John removed a note from his pocket and handed it over to Anna for her to read quickly. "He's pressing for either my removal from the case, the suspension of the case, or Chief Crawley's resignation. The Mayor's waffling in his position on it-"

"Which means he as much as approves." Anna folded the note and handed it back. "Does this include me?"

"None of the demands have said as much yet but the other unkind gossip floating about is an accusation toward your person as the source of the delay in the department's success."

"That we're moving too slowly?" John nodded and Anna stretched her lips to a thin smile for a moment before dropping the pretense. "Then I guess our Holy Trinity has decided to fulfill on their threat."

"I'd say they were more than a little bothered that we went after someone walking the fringes of their circles."

"Mr. Bricker's nothing more to them than an annoyance. If they could catch him they'd string him up faster than a Guy Fakwes burned in celebration. He's their scapegoat if they catch him and an innocent if they don't."

"I thought as much, though Chief Crawley is less inclined to rely entirely on Mr. Bricker's innocence."

"Because he happened to have the weapon of rape?"

"Because he's more than a little put off by Mr. Bricker."

"We can't let our personal affiliations affect our judgment in these matters. Chief Crawley should know better."

"I don't know. I've only been married a day and I know I'd do quite a bit to anyone who threatened my wife."

Anna smiled, "Charmer."

"It's the best I can do, given our circumstances."

"That it is." Anna flicked her eyes to the clock. "Could you spare a quick ride across town? I've got to get somewhere and it's close enough to the precinct I could dropped you."

"I'll deliver you safely there and then worry over me." John helped Anna into her coat. "Where do you need to be in such a hurry?"

"I've got an appointment." Anna smiled at him, buttoning up her coat. "Do you remember how Mary's always implying I've something rather grand I've never showed you?"

"Yes."

"Well, you'll see it today." They left her office and hailed a cab.

The ride across town went smoothly, given the early afternoon traffic was not ready to rush yet. Anna drummed her fingers on her knee as John fiddled with his hat in his hand. Both attempted to speak at the same time but John bowed to Anna's preeminence.

With a smile she began, "Why's Senator Crowborough moving so quickly?"

"How so?"

"Just yesterday afternoon he forces us into the back of a carriage and hurdles us across town just to warn us away from the case before coming to preen his political feathers before Chief Crawley. Even for as fast as his connections move when he strums the right chord I find it impossible to imagine he would already have excited so much attention against us."

"You think he drew up into that meeting as pretense?"

"That's one way to think of it. If we agreed to his terms he'd lord it over us. He'd own that bit of information attached to the shred of our souls it would've cut and we'd be his or face ruin."

"And if he didn't agree, as he didn't, he prepared his contingency plan?" John postulated and Anna nodded. "It's not too far outside the realm of reality that he'd dedicate his resources to making sure all his chickens hatched as he wanted them to."

"Dedication and perseverance in the face of great adversity?"

"I was thinking in the face of great debt." Anna frowned and John hurried to explain. "When Talbot and I went to meet with Bricker yesterday Talbot told me that Crowborough is up to his eyeballs in debt. He holds what he does now on political clout alone."

"Hence his desire to keep it all a secret. If he loses his seat he loses all hope of regaining what he's so foolishly wasted." Anna shook her head, "What people do to grasp horridly at what they don't deserve."

"Just that."

They sat in silence a minute until Anna spoke, "What did you want to say?"

"What?"

"When we started talking about Senator Crowborough, you sounded like you had a question of your own."

"I was just wondering why you'd never told me about whatever we're about to see before."

"Because," The cab stopped and Anna got out, standing proudly before a large building similar in style to her Institute. "Not many people know that I own and run this place and it keeps those kept here safe."

"Who stays here?"

"Those the world forgot Detective. Come." Anna stepped toward the front door and pulled it open, John trailing her inside.

"When Mary and Matthew emerged stable and structurally efficient after the crisis two years ago Mary wanted to invest part of their money in a worthy case. A sort of protection against the evil eye or something."

"Karma."

"What?"

John shrugged, "I've met some Indians, from Bombay, and they call the notion Karma. It's the idea that what goes around will inevitably come around. If we do good then good is added to what we have."

"Exactly." Anna guided John deeper into the building, past the large rooms on the main floor with tables and benches filled with chattering children hard at work while the voices of instructors guiding their charges at their tasks rang out over the stone. "She gave me the money to build this."

"What is 'this?" John gestured to the gothic ceilings and neat architecture. "It looks like your Institute."

"In a way it's an extension of what I do there." Anna took to a large staircase, starting up it. "It's for the education and vocational training of the city's working child poor."

"Really?"

"Really." Anna waited for him a moment at the top of the steps. "This is how I fight the children's aid societies sending children to rural regions of New York and to the Midwest."

"How?"

"They're worried these children will end up on the streets, become inhabitors of the shantytowns or the slums. Dredges on society simply because they've been denied basic education or training."

"And here we hope to absolve that." A dark-haired woman with a kind face and a ginger-headed woman with a broad smile approached them. Both hugged Anna before extending their hands to John.

"I'm Jane Moorsum," The dark-haired woman started, adjusting the notepad in her hands, "Headmistress here."

"And I'm Gwen Harding, superintendent on the board of the school."

"Detective John Bates. Doctor Smith is assisting me in a critical investigation and she thought I could use a moment to break from it and see something positive."

"Sounds like Anna," Gwen nudged Anna, leading Anna to sneak a smile for herself. "Ever since we studied together under the superintendent of the almshouse on Blackwell's Island she's endeavored to save the world."

"Blackwell's?" John thought a moment, "Wasn't that the house that took in all the children from the Colored Orphans' Asylum after it was burned in '63?"

"The same." Jane cut in, "None of the children were harmed, thank goodness, but it stood as a monument to the righteousness of treating all children well."

"I'll say. Anna chose the site reconstruction in the Bronx." Gwen grinned at Anna's blush. "Always so modest our Anna. But she's a tiger when fighting to align the other children's aid societies to her point of view."

"My husband always thought that whatever we did to save these children was worth it and Anna's the one who opened my eyes to it all." Jane hushed Gwen's unending praise. "I wouldn't be here if not for him, and her. And none of these children would have a safe place to live, breathe, learn, or play if she didn't insist on keeping them in these walls instead of on the streets."

"Must be quite the task for your husband." John watched Jane's face fall slightly, "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

"Mr. Moorsum was the former headmaster her." Anna put a hand on Jane's arm. "When tuberculosis struck he was taken with it."

"I'm so sorry. Please forgive my careless ignorance."

"There's nothing to forgive, Detective Bates." Jane wiped at her eyes, "He enjoyed his work here and now I have the great fortune of continuing it in his memory."

"And what a memory of him you're leaving." John pulled out his pocket watch before reaching to shake Gwen and Jane's hands quickly. "I apologize but other business calls my attention and I've got to be on my way."

"I do hope we can meet in better circumstances in future, Detective." Gwen pumped John's hand adamantly, "Anyone Anna speaks about with such respect is worthy our time and attention."

"And anything Doctor Smith keeps to herself is worthy mine." John nodded to them, "Ladies."

Anna walked him to the top of the stairs, "What do you think?"

"I hope you're not asking my permission."

"No," Anna shook her head, "But you're my husband and I don't want secrets between us. We're not private people anymore. At least not to one another."

"I think it's a grand ambition and one I hope continues to bear the fruit of the loving care of yourself and those two fine women." John went to kiss her cheek but stopped himself. "In other circumstances I'd lavish you in affection."

"And in other circumstances I might let you." Anna risked a hand over his on the bannister. "But now's not the time or the place."

"No." John took a breath, "Could you come by the precinct later? I might want a session to storm out how we tackle our three other suspects and smoke Mr. Bricker from hiding."

"Do you need me for that?"

"I need you for everything."

"Charmer." Anna grinned, "But yes. I could be there around three. Unless our exit interviews for our graduating students run over but no later than four."

"Perfect. I'll see you then." John waved to Jane and Gwen, chatting to themselves as they waited for Anna, and descended the stairs to leave the secret institute behind.

* * *

John glanced up as Anna entered and immediately stood to clear her a space. Talbot's musings were already tacked onto their board next to his pictures of the weapon of rape. Anna studied those first before turning to John.

"He's sure this is the weapon?"

"Yes."

"And Mr. Bricker claimed they were donations left on his doorstep the morning of the murder by some anonymous benefactor." John nodded and Anna sighed, "I can see why he would still be a suspect. Given the weak alibi that presents."

"But his pattern, as I told you, of both his office and his home suggest a cluttered mind. Something you think romantics expect a writer or an artist to have as their abodes." John shook his head, "Given what we know about the methodical nature of our killer, Mr. Simon Bricker is not him."

"Then who leaves their weapons out in the open so blatantly?"

"The better question is who gains from shifting blame onto Mr. Bricker and why him?"

Anna paused a moment, "Our killer is someone who runs with us in a much tighter circle."

John nodded, "Someone who knows placing Mr. Bricker under our scrutiny means they might escape detection."

"I'd even hazard that they'll curb the urge for awhile, or even search for the right kind of prostitute in Mr. Bricker's shantytown to associate him more closely with the killings."

"Someone who wants us sniffing around the decay instead of finding them." John ticked off on his fingers. "Who does that rule out?"

"Senator Crowborough more than likely." When John raised an eyebrow Anna explained. "He's taken a direct approach with us. The methodology of our killer suggests someone comfortable battling from the dark recesses. They wouldn't risk everything just to pull a few political strings to get us tied up in legality. It destroys their game."

"And Mr. Bricker would not be so stupid as to point the finger at himself, run for it, and then taunt us with the knowledge it is him." John shrugged a shoulder, "Even if he did that, it's beyond his capacity to think that far ahead. His escape was a mad dash back to his old abode. There's no fore-planning in it."

"That leaves Mr. Carlisle and Doctor Green then." Anna waved off John's surprise, "If we're going to catch the killer then I need to accept there's a chance of merit to your argument and prove you wrong like a scientist would."

"Well spoke Doctor." Both heads turned to see Senator Crowborough at the door with a very dour Chief Crawley. "I'm sure that same process will serve you well when you go back to your Institute."

"It does." Anna crossed her arms over her chest, "What's going on?"

"I'm here, officially, to announce that you're no longer needed." He smiled and the hair at the back of John's neck prickled. "Your deductions, or whatever you call them, are great hindrances to this case and have delayed the department from making any real progress."

"Doctor Smith's observations have been nothing but helpful."

"I think the evidence of that would be to the contrary, Detective." Senator Crowborough handed over a piece of paper and John read it quickly. "You'll find the Mayor agrees that this adorable experiment is to be at an end. Doctor Smith is not a member of this department and her services are no longer required so she is to be immediately ejected from the premises and not allowed back."

"Is this really happening?" John turned to Chief Crawley. "Surely Commissioner Roosevelt objected to this."

"What the Commissioner did or did not do is none of your concern." Senator Crowborough cut in, his face losing the political smile. "The decision has been made and Doctor Smith is to go immediately."

Anna gaped at them, turning to John, "Won't you say something Detective?"

John struggled to find words, "What could I say?"

Ann whirled on Chief Crawley, "And you sir? What will you say?"

He hung his head, "I'm sorry Anna. There's nothing I can do about it."

Anna's chin quivered slightly but she gathered her things and stomped out of the office in a rush. John bit the inside of his cheek, fist clenching, as he wanted nothing more than to go after her but could not. Instead he turned his scowl on the Senator.

"You've crossed a line."

"No, I'm doing my job. Unlike you."

"I beg your pardon."

"It's been six weeks since the first body dropped Detective," Senator Crowborough stepped forward, tapping the edge of his cane on John's shoulder. "What've you got to show for it?"

"A man who probably saw the killer?"

"And where is this man?"

"A shantytown by the docks."

Senator Crowborough widened his eyes in pleasant surprise, "Then produce the informant. Give us the information from your witness."

John ground his teeth, "We can't ferret him out of the shantytown as yet. Our efforts were rebuffed on the first attempt."

"And you've made no more?"

"It's difficult to get round the decay, Senator." John sniffed at him, "Too many people getting where they don't belong and blocking the way."

"Pity," Senator Crowborough clicked his tongue against his teeth. "It seems you need something. Say a militia."

"That's be nice Senator."

"But you haven't got one, have you?" His voice was soft as the scales of an uncoiling snake weaving over one another.

"No, I haven't. Misplaced my last militia and they've yet to give me a new one."

"You know," Senator Crowborough lowered his voice more and John could see from Chief Crawley's face that he struggled to hear the contents of the conversation. "Carlisle thought we should buy you out. Buy out Doctor Smith, but I disagreed. I told them that you two were foolish crusaders and the only way to get rid of them is to break them because they'll never leave their scruples for money."

"That's right."

"No, it's infantile and naïve." Senator Crowborough sneered, "Only idiots stick to something long after it's dead and you two are well on your way to hell in a handbag by your actions."

"And what of you yours, Senator. Don't think I don't know your motives for stopping us are because you've forged yourself a rather lucrative contract with Mr. Carlisle for building permits and permissions in exchange for a percentage to rescue your failed fortune." John smiled to himself at the moment of fear in the Senator's eyes. "We all know why you're here. It's for yourself so stop pretending any differently. Altruism doesn't suit you."

"Nor you, apparently."

"I at least try to wear it."

"Failure is still failure, Detective." Senator Crowborough stepped back, raising his voice. "I think, Chief Crawley, that your noble endeavor to rescue this Five Points Detective has turned into an abysmal disappointment."

"Now wait right there," Chief Crawley stepped forward. "I won't have you insulting my detectives or my friends here. Doctor Smith left on orders but Detective Bates-"

"Is also ordered to leave his badge and authority when he walks through those doors." Senator Crowborough pulled another piece of paper from an inner pocket and turned just enough to place it in Chief Crawley's open hands. "You'll find the instructions for his immediate dismissal written there."

"In the reluctant hand of the Commissioner."

"But in Commissioner Roosevelt's hand nonetheless." Senator Crowborough sniffed and rolled his shoulders. "It's time to lay this nonsense to bed and let it all be."

"Let it be?" John pointed toward the street. "There are still people in danger."

"Of what? The boogey man? Of a righteous individual riding the streets of whores? Or of you and the Doctor causing more riots in slums and leaving bodies with bloody holes in their foreheads?"

John did not respond and Senator Crowborough replaced his hat. "I hope you take more care in who you hire to your employment at this department the next time Chief Crawley. We'd hate for the wrong sort to get through your doors again and further stain your strained record."

"Leave that to me, Senator." Chief Crawley ground out, "And get back to what you do best."

"Yes, best we all got back to what we do best." Senator Crowborough nodded to them, "Good afternoon."

When he left John gathered his few things as quickly as he could, Chief Crawley standing in the doorway. "Bates… John-"

"It was an experiment from the beginning, Robert," John stopped in the doorway, placing his hat on his head. "And we failed it grandly."

"It's not over John."

"We need to accept that we've been beaten Robert, and let it go." John shrugged into his coat, "I have."

"Bates!"

But John was already out the door.


	19. Of that Colossal Wreck

John sighed, sitting back in the armchair in front of the fire with Anna across from him. "Do you think they bought it?"

"I did. Those were real tears." Anna sipped at her tear before replacing it on her saucer. "All those fears of it actually being my reality came at once and there I was, sobbing like a child."

"It sold Senator Crowborough on Chief Crawley's performance."

Anna shrugged, "Personally I didn't think Chief Crawley would take our warning seriously and get the Mayor on our side." She cringed, "Is that bad?"

"We all had doubts about how successful this would be when we pitched it as an option." John sighed, "But now that you're sufficiently 'cut down to size' it might bring our killer to our playing field instead of us chasing him around his."

"I'm sure Commissioner Roosevelt'll be happy about that."

"Yes he will." John sucked the inside of his cheek, "Didn't you have any doubts about him?"

"How so?"

"Why were you so sure he'd go along with the ruse?"

Anna shook her head, "Commissioner Roosevelt and I are acquaintances. Not close mind you, but close enough to call in this favor."

"What a time to call in a favor."

"I thought it the appropriate moment. A serial killer roaming the streets is a threat to all I think." John snorted his laugh and Anna raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You only ever use your favors to benefit others don't you?"

"What's the purpose in using them for yourself?"

John shrugged and stood when the bell rung at the door. Walking toward it he kept a hand at his side, ready to strike if needed, but only Chief Crawley stood on the doorstep. John pulled the handle and allowed him inside, closing the door quickly while ushering Chief Crawley to the parlour.

"I think I shook off any tails but one never knows in traffic." Chief Crawley claimed John's former chair and thanked Anna with a smile when she handed him tea. "I must commend the two of you, Senator Crowborough was very convinced."

"He's satisfied then?" Anna offered John a spot next to her on the sofa.

Chief Crawley swallowed, putting cup and saucer on the small table next to his seat before speaking. "Satisfied? The wanker was practically crowing about the power he wields in this city. It took all my self-control not to wring his self-righteous neck when he wouldn't shut up about it."

"We're glad you kept yourself to yourself." Anna smiled and John leaned forward.

"And everyone else?"

"Talbot and Branson believe it's a crock and they'll probably try and discover something to that effect. Inspector Carson is doubtful but he'll row the boat until it goes down if needs must so he won't talk. Alfred and Jimmy are too worried over their off hours to fret much about the investigation and everyone else seems more at ease now that they're not tracking down a killer of this magnitude."

"What about the papers?" Anna ventured, "Surely they've got someone on you, snooping for answers."

"They've been round and, as I said, only Branson believes there's more to the story. The others'll print their final assumptions about the killer being Mr. Bricker and that he's hiding in a shantytown." Chief Crawley groaned, "We'll have rioters and protestors demanding we raid every shantytown in New York when they think that's where the culprit is."

"Playing right into the hands of the Holy Trinity." Chief Crawley frowned and John explained his statement. "They want a maintenance of the status quo. Someone in the office, whether maliciously or unintentionally because they've got loose lips after a few pints, got them the information about our theories."

"Which one? You've given me too many."

"The one about the identity of our killer." Anna cut in, "They weren't too pleased about the news that we're looking for someone in their back garden as the source of these killings."

"I'm going to bet it didn't help matters that you postulated on the possibility the Senator was the killer."

"Didn't help our cause when the Holy Trinity abducted us for a meeting yesterday." John stopped, "Was that just yesterday?"

"Unfortunately." Anna laced her fingers through his and faced Chief Crawley again. "They don't want people thinking anyone could be the killer when what they want is for everyone to turn their gaze on the poor. If the poor are the source of the problems then they can bowl them over in their quest for a grander New York City."

"Not that I have arguments with building a better city but I understand your assessment on that." Chief Crawley rested his chin on his fingers, thinking a moment then speaking. "What's the Senator's gain in it?"

"He needs the contracts he promised Richard Carlisle to go through or else he doesn't cut his percentage." John passed over a few clippings. "Branson helped me dig those up in the city offices."

"The Senator's got his reputation to think of if he lets a killer loose."

"But he'll have everyone convinced in a day it's Mr. Bricker." Anna paused as Chief Crawley shuffled in his seat. "He's an oily one, no doubt, but he's not the killer."

"You're sure?"

"He's far too disorganized and he's got nothing to gain." John clicked his tongue against his teeth, "In the end the Holy Trinity want to bend the story to fit the narrative that'll paint their futures golden and rosy because they don't want to face the reality of the situation."

Chief Crawley raised a hand, as if in surrender, "I can't say I much care for the reality of this situation either but I follow the facts, not my fancies."

"And that's why we needed to have them think we're not involved." John gestured to Anna and then himself. "If they think we're out then they'll move less stealthily. We catch them and solve this."

"I still don't understand how bringing down Senator Crowborough or Mr. Carlisle will reveal this killer."

"Mr. Carlisle's still one of our suspects." John winced, "His motives are not quite as sound as we'd like but we need to rule him out and dedicate the remainder of our focus on our remaining suspects."

"And cutting them down to size does that for you?"

"It gets them off the board and we need our board clear to see our killer for what he is." Anna leaned back in her seat, "He'll get complacent now, perhaps relax a bit, and then we'll have him."

"How'd you figure?"

"If he thinks I'm laid low," Anna pointed to herself, "Then he'll think he's achieved his goal. He'll move in for the kill of control because he believes he's in control."

"But he's not?" Chief Crawley looked between Anna and John's nodding heads. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"As do we sir." John clutched Anna's hand tighter. "As do we."

* * *

John read the paper, passing over the front page to Anna as she set down her spoon. She read quickly then folded it beside her plate. Neither spoke, absorbed in eating, until a bell at the back of the house rang.

Standing, John dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and walked through the kitchen to the back door. He opened it, stepping aside as Talbot and Branson walked inside, hefting the large evidence board between them. Doctor Moseley followed closely behind them, Ms. Baxter bringing up the rear. John checked the street and closed the door.

Anna moved the dishes from the table, motioning Talbot and Branson to set the board in the corner of the room, and greeted Doctor Moseley with all her professional courtesy before speaking with Ms. Baxter. John removed the dishes from the table as the other members of their party took their seats. All was quiet a moment before Branson spoke.

"Could someone catch me up because, I'll admit it freely, I'm a bit lost in all this."

"Detective Bates and I have been, officially, dismissed from the case and it's been shelved." Anna pointed to all those around the table. "Excluding, for appropriate appearances, Chief Crawley is the only other individual outside this room who has any idea that it was a ruse."

"To fool Senator Crowborough?" Talbot pointed to John, "He came through on his threat?"

"He did but we'd beat him to the punch and, due to his overconfidence, he thought the ease with which he gained the object of his desire was attributed to his skills."

"Bloody wanker." Branson scoffed, "He deserves what hell we'll rain down on his head."

"And we shall but we've got to pull a loose thread first." Anna glanced at John but he nodded for her to continue. "We need Thomas Barrow."

"One doesn't just abduct the head of Mr. Carlisle's operations." Talbot snorted, "Even for as daring as I like to think I am I know that's a fool's errand."

"That's why we make him come to us." John smiled at Branson, "I'm sure you've got enough on him to publish a cracking story that'll force Carlisle and the Senator to cut their embarrassing dead weight."

Branson nodded, the grin overtaking his face, "Oh I've got some things that'll ruin them all."

"Not yet." John cautioned, "If we show our hand too soon then they might recover. When we knock over these pieces they need to stay down."

"So we start with Barrow and then what?" Talbot studied the board, "We're no closer to finding the monster leaving these girls without their futures."

"But we are." John ticked off on his fingers. "We've ruled out Senator Crowborough due to his… other interests and his aspirations."

"And Mr. Bricker's personal life lends to someone who'd kill those above him instead of those below." Anna shook her head, "His struggle for acceptance is similar to Mr. Carlisle's but his deceptions in that part of his life mean his struggles to maintain the fiction of his life would be too overwhelming for him to have the control necessary to commit these serial killings."

"Leaving who then?" Doctor Moseley spoke up for the first time, his hands twitching nervously on the table. "Who do we think could've killed these girls?"

"Doctor Green and Mr. Carlisle." John noted Anna's furrowed brow but continued. "Part of this endeavor is to rule out Mr. Carlisle as our suspect."

"Then what'll you have us do?" Talbot straightened in his chair. "How do we help?"

"Mr. Branson here begins with casting suspicion on Mr. Barrow as a hindrance to the plans and goals of both Senator Crowborough and Mr. Carlisle. We alienate him and then take what he knows to ruin them all."

"They'll tear each other to pieces." Branson nodded, taking notes on his pad. "And do you want me to see what I could dig up about Doctor Green while I'm at it?"

"If you think you could hit both birds with one stone I've no objection to it." John turned to Doctor Moseley, "The case is officially closed but we need your eyes on any similar murders or suspicious circumstances that could suggest our killer can't keep his hands to himself."

"You think he'll be active? After all this brouhaha?"

"He'll try and suppress his urge to kill but it's an addiction as much as a compulsion at this point." Anna opened her hands. "He might try to take advantage of the light being shined on Mr. Bricker and cast his net further afield to search for his victims but I've got a feeling he won't keep to that forever. He can't."

"Because his brain won't let him." Ms. Baxter's quiet voice filled the room, catching everyone off guard. "He's too invested now and though he'll try to tell himself he's cured, that his goals have been accomplished, he won't have the capacity to stop. He's more animal than man now."

"Phyllis is, unfortunately, right." Anna's face clouded. "I've seen it. When people give into their bloodlust this violently for this long they can't claw their way out."

"Then we haven't much time."

"Wait," Talbot caught them all as they started to stand. "I think you've forgotten to dole out my duties."

"Mr. Talbot," John smiled, "You'll be my partner."

Talbot beamed, "Excellent."

* * *

John shifted, the brick at his back catching on a loose thread of his shirt. He tugged it, tearing the thread, and stood to stretch. Talbot flipped through a paper at his left, making the occasionally commentary with his sighs and snorts. Loud noises from across the street drew their attention and Talbot slapped the paper onto the nearest rubbish heap as John leaned around the brickwork.

"I guess Branson's information worked." John smiled, turning back to Talbot. "It appears Mr. Barrow is very low indeed."

Talbot glanced around the edge of the alley and nodded his agreement, "He's looking poorly."

"A week of suspicion and rejection'll do that to you." John stepped back, Talbot putting his back to the wall at John's side as Barrow passed them, looking particularly downcast. "I think we should make our move Mr. Talbot."

They snuck from the alley and, in a concerted movement, Talbot threw a hood over Barrow's head while John wrapped his larger arms around Barrow's narrower frame. He struggled and kicked but John tossed him in the back of the ambulance, climbing quickly in behind to tie Barrow's hands behind his back while Talbot shut the doors. Dragging Barrow onto one of the benches, John slapped his hand against the side and they rocked to a start.

Barrow whimpered and called through the bag, struggling against his bonds, but John ignored him. They stopped and Talbot opened the doors. John slid Barrow toward Talbot and, between the two of them, they carted Barrow to the roof of the building.

John nodded at Mary, holding the door open, and she shrugged as she ducked back inside. With a tug John removed Barrow's hood and he blinked in the bright light. Talbot looped something around both of Barrow's ankles as he struggled to orient himself, dusting his hands as he stood.

Yanking his wrists, trying to break the ties holding him, Barrow scoffed himself to a false sense of importance. "Do you have nay idea what you've done?"

"Abducted a nobody." John stepped forward and Barrow countered with a step backward, closer to the roof edge. "No one noticed."

"Mr. Carlisle'll come looking for me."

"I doubt that." Talbot shined his fingers on his waistcoat checking them like he was having a conversation with a distant relative at tea. "One of our friends said that he dropped you from his employment when the police opened their investigation into your trafficking scheme to get prostitutes for the Abbey."

"That's a lie."

"That's up to the investigators, not us." John forced Barrow back another step. He tottered near the edge of the roof and John held back a moment until the fear in Barrow's eyes relaxed a touch. "But it's cut your ties with Senator Crowborough. You're no longer the Herald Angel for the Holy Trinity and that's got to smart a bit."

"Give it time."

"To do what?" Talbot opened his arms, as if fielding options, "Let it all sour further for you?"

"To get back on top."

John hummed, "I'd have thought you were always on the bottom when it came to the Senator. He doesn't seem the type to bend over for you."

Barrow bristled, "How dare you?"

"I haven't ever dared yet." John leaned forward and Barrow struggled with his balance at the roof's edge. "Now, your options are simple. Either we let you back onto the streets and they believe you told us everything or you tell us everything and you don't die."

Barrow snorted, "No one'll believe I sold them out. I'm loyal."

"To yourself, maybe. Not to anyone else." Talbot folded his arms over his chest. "No matter what you tell them, they'll think this little talk of ours was an arrangement to get yourself preferential treatment when we take down your bosses and their associated organizations."

"I'd never."

"That was before they cut you loose." John put two hands on Barrow's shoulders. "Like we're about to."

"You're a copper. You play by the rules." Barrow sneered, "I've got nothing to fear from you."

"But I'm not a copper anymore, I was dismissed thanks to your boss." John relished the abject fear in Barrow's eyes. "Time for us to cut you loose."

John pushed Barrow and he tripped over the edge of the building. His shriek of fear echoed around them and John grimaced at the noise. With a look over his shoulder he watched as the contraption Talbot erected caught, jerking a moment before settling. Both men peered over the edge to see Barrow dangling below them.

"Excellent work Mr. Talbot."

"Thank you." Talbot handed the end of the rope to John and together they pulled Barrow back over the edge. Untying Barrow's ankles, Talbot waved the rope in Barrow's face. "Refuse our offer again and we drop you without a safety net."

"Alright," Barrow nodded emphatically. "I'll tell you everything I know."

"Good." John untied Barrows' hands. "Now I hope you have evidence to prove what you're about to tell us."

Barrow nodded again and Talbot clapped him on the shoulder, smiling at Barrow's jumpy reaction. "I think he's going to be a great help to us Detective."

"So do I Mr. Talbot." John hauled Barrow to his feet. "So do I."

They carted Barrow back to the precinct, using the rear entrance to get him right into Chief Crawley's office unseen. As he told Chief Crawley his story, Edith scribbling her notes as furiously as Branson at her side, John and Talbot hunted down the evidence Barrow claimed to have. They stopped their cab at the edge of the river and John whistled.

"I'm a good swimmer but I don't think this is where he wanted us."

"You forget," Talbot removed his jacket and waistcoat, toeing off his shoes. "It's about where people won't go because they think it's someone else's problem."

"How'd you mean?" John watched Talbot finish stripping to his pants and stretching his arms.

"Mr. Barrow's not as big of a fool as we wish he was." Talbot pointed to a floating buoy. "No one touches those but the city officials in charge of them. However, that one's not one of the city's buoys. It's too close to shore and painted differently."

"Enough like the others to make sure no one touches it and different enough to make sure no one touches it." John shrugged, "You're quite the observer Mr. Talbot."

"All those hours behind a camera." Talbot waded into the water, swimming to the buoy.

John watched from shore, picking up Talbot's clothes, as he yanked something from the underside of the buoy and stroked one handed back to shore. They traded clothes for the oilskin packet and John peeked inside. Notes and papers stacked dryly inside and John smiled.

"I think Mr. Barrow truly wants his chance to leave the state in the company of a federal protection detail."

"I would too if I was bringing down a Senator and someone as dangerous as Mr. Carlisle." Talbot let his waistcoat and jacket hang open. "But I think we'd better get this to someone before I draw any more attention with how I'm dripping everywhere."

John hailed a cab and they set off back to the precinct. They glimpsed the hubbub of a loud Senator Crowborough arguing for his lawyer while shouting over the allegations Mr. Carlisle spewed over the objections of his own lawyer on the other side of the room. Talbot snorted, opening the door to Chief Crawley's office for John to step through before joining them. Barrow sat in the same seat as earlier, his story only advanced by a few years in what John, based on the timetable Barrow laid out, was going to leave both Edith and Branson sore of the posterior.

"This should verify what Mr. Barrow's telling Mrs. Pelham and Mr. Branson." John put the packet in Chief Crawley's hands before nodded down to the brewing tussle below. "How's that working out?"

"You wouldn't believe it but it seem Jimmy, our intrepid new officer, was a friend of Mr. Barrow's here." Chief Crawley held nothing but thunder in his face, opening the packet to examine the contents. "Seems he cast his lot with the Senator and Mr. Carlisle and told them Mr. Barrow was here."

"Jimmy sold us out?"

"He's a closeted sodomist." Chief Crawley shuddered, "He'll be getting the full measure of the book I'll throw at him."

"What a colossal wreck for them." John shook his head, "It's what comes of think you can rise that high without consequence."

"They didn't anticipate this consequence." Chief Crawley handed John his badge. "I know it was only taken in pretense but I regretted ever having to hold this when it's yours. What you've done here today… I haven't words."

"It's only the beginning sir." John put a hand on Talbot's shoulder, "And I'd like to advocate for Mr. Talbot here to be considered for one."

"After what he's done for us I'd be remiss not to give him a chance." Chief Crawley shook Talbot's hand, drawing him to the side, "What do you know about our officer training program?"

John left the office, holding his badge almost solemnly in his hands. He caught sight of Senator Crowborough and fought back the temptation to wave at the horrified fury on the man's face. Risking a small smile John turned to the back door but a hand caught his shoulder.

"Detective, could I have a moment?" Branson, slightly out of breath from his dash down the stairs, jerked his head to a corner.

John followed him, tucking his badge into the interior pocket of his jacket. "Don't you have to get the rest of Mr. Barrow's story?"

"Mrs. Pelham's recording most of it for the police now and the Chief's promised me a one-time look. An exclusive on this whole thing since I've been so helpful on the case." Branson smiled for only a second before sobering. "I dropped a packet by Doctor Smith's house today, with that information you wanted on Doctor Green."

"Obviously you found something interesting or you'd just have let me read it."

Branson nodded frenetically in the affirmative, "We all knew Doctor Green was scum but he's worse than we imagined."

"How'd you mean?"

"I've got a contact with the Daily Chronicle in London. He sent me a telegram containing the basics and he's promised a parcel in the next post."

"What are the highlights?"

Branson took a deep breath. "While he studied at Oxford, with Doctor Smith, Doctor Green was implicated in a scandal involving sexual misconduct with a few patients at the hospital where he did residence. The whole thing was swept under the rug but he came here because none of the hospitals there would employ him. None took the matter further but no one trusted him."

"Is that it?"

"No," Branson shook his head. "The final victim died as a result of the wounds he left on her."

John swore ice ran down his back. "What kind of wounds?"

"She was strangled and her throat almost cut."

"Detective!" John and Branson looked up as Inspector Carson came to their side. "They've found another body."


	20. Boundless and Bare

John flicked through the papers, only just noticing Anna's hand on his shoulder. "What is it darling?"

"I think I should be asking you that." Anna took the chair next to him, gesturing to the papers strewn all over the table. "What's this?"

"It's everything Mr. Branson could find on Doctor Green. He had it rushed to us when the boat docked." John checked his watch, "Is it that late?"

"In some places it's considered early but yes, it is." Anna pulled a paper toward her, reading over the information. "I guess I should apologize for doubting you about Doctor Green."

"It's water under the bridge." John went back to his work. "I should apologize for not coming to bed."

"You're a man of singular focus and I've got nothing but respect and admiration for that."

They both laughed a moment before John pulled another folder closer, "It seems it's the one thing I have in common with Doctor Green."

Anna took the photographs John pulled from the folder, flipping through them. "I never thought he'd risk a seventh."

"Neither did I." John stopped, "But then I didn't think Branson'd uncover all of this from a bit of investigation."

"What'd you think he'd find?"

John shrugged, "That perhaps he was always a smug bastard."

Anna snorted, "That I could've told you."

"I know." John shifted, filing a section of notes in another folder. "I guess this is beyond what I expected from him, despite my suspicions."

"I don't know what disturbs me more." Anna leaned back slightly in her chair, "That Ms. Swire wasn't his first attempt or that no one stopped him when it happened the first time."

John sat back, the chair creaking slightly. "Did they think he cured himself?"

"We can't be sure. We're too close to the problem for that to work." Anna flicked through some of the notes. "But even with all of this, how do we connect Doctor Green to the murders?"

"We'll have to do it in the interrogation once we actually find him." John shook his head, "We think he has a mole in the precinct the same way Carlisle and Senator Crowborough did."

"Then he's flown the coop?" John nodded and Anna sighed. "Where do you all thing he's gone?"

"I haven't the faintest idea." John rubbed his eyes, "The biggest problem is that we didn't consider this as an option given the control of our killer."

"Hm." Anna tipped her head from side to side, "We didn't think about it because him running for it wasn't a situation we postulated."

"But should we have?"

Anna shrugged, "I believe we should consider that perhaps his escape was more of a panic than his method."

John frowned, "Why would you say that?"

"Because his control and superiority would never believe we'd find him." Anna tapped the photographs, "He didn't sever her head like he did the fifth and sixth victims."

"Because you'd fallen from grace?"

Anna nodded, "That's what I believe. He felt comfortable enough to go out and find someone again."

"His rage dissipated." John drummed his fingers on the table, "Your temporary rejection by the precinct, my dismissal, and the focus on Bricker would make him feel that he's safe again."

"What else has changed for him that might change his attitudes about the situation?"

"The fall of Senator Crowborough and Carlisle altered our focus. He felt he could move in the shadows." John stopped a moment, "We're not considering something."

"What?"

"The possible biblical implications of seven bodies."

Anna shook her head, "Green's about as religious as a traditional Anglican so it means he's not at all."

"Then it's another body to him?"

"Yes." Anna gathered the photographs again. "He thought he was safe."

"And now he's on the run." John brushed his hand over his face, "We're back to our original question, where do we find him now?"

Anna sucked the inside of her cheek, "Perhaps Mr. Bricker could tell us more about that."

"Why would you think that?"

"Mr. Bricker ran for it when you went to confront him about the cane. He seemed to know who left it and wanted to protect himself from repercussions."

John clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Like the owners of the flesh houses. They were afraid of someone coming for them."

Anna brought her knees up to put her feet on the chair. "What about the sniper taking shots at us?"

"The Wraith?" John took a deep breath, sliding one of the papers back and forth, "It's possible."

"If Mr. Bricker saw something and they wanted to keep him silent then they threaten him with a bullet. The same for the owners of the houses where he acquired his prostitutes: give them the threat of death to keep them obedient to their greed. The same sniper following us to stop Mrs. Shackleton talking to us."

"How'd Green find the Wraith? That's an assassin for gangsters and politicians."

Anna pursed her lips, "I think we need to speak to a politician and a gangster about that."

John gaped, "You think Carlisle and Crowborough knew something?"

"It'd explain a bit more about why they were so intent on keeping us quiet. If they're under the same threat, the crosshairs at their backs…" Anna stood, "And they denied the Wraith's involvement from their angle."

"It's worth the try I think." John stood as well and put his hands on Anna's waist. "You're a genius you know."

"I'd say we're both rather intelligent." Anna traced a finger over the open patch in John's shirt. "And I think we deserve a reward."

"Do we?" John lifted Anna off the floor and set her on the table, disturbing the information there. "What kind of reward?"

"One that leaves us both as bare as possible I think." Anna undid his buttons, leaving his shirt and waistcoat hanging open toward the table while she eased her fingers through the hair on his chest.

"Do you desire me Mrs. Bates?"

"My desire for you is constant and eternal, Mr. Bates." Anna jerked John forward with a hand on his belt. "This morning it's particularly boundless."

"Good," John growled, ghosting over the skin by her neck and ear, "Because I find myself exceptionally starved for something delectable."

"I'm happy to oblige you." Anna gasped as John spread her legs to pull off her knickers. "If that's what you want."

"It'll suffice for now." John pulled a chair forward, sitting on it while his hands sculpted up and down her thighs. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Anna teased before hissing at the tentatively teasing brush of John's fingers at her center.

"What do you want?"

"Just you." Anna bent at the waist to pull John's lips to hers. She licked at his lips before adjusting back on the table. "Please proceed Mr. Bates."

He grinned wolfishly at her before lifting her nightdress to her waist. Kissing over her stomach, John then worked his way down to run his lips over her exposed thighs before nipping back up toward her waist. Anna's breath caught in her throat and one of her hands bunched in the shirt at his shoulders.

"You're ready for me Anna." John licked around her pulsing folds.

"My husband didn't come to bed last night and I was rather beside myself for his attentions." Anna slid her leg over John's shoulder, drawing him closer to where she wept for him. "Perhaps you could ease the ache."

"I'd be honored." John lowered his lips to her, sucking and pulling at her folds until he opened her more fully.

Her vocal response to his attentions guided John's ministrations. His fingers massaged her skin, giving way to Anna's relaxed sighs. Even the roll of her hips, encouraging him faster did not speed his work along. Instead John pressed at her until Anna came with a whimper.

John kissed over her, pushing his chair back enough to stand. Anna leaned back on her arms, her eyes glazed with pleasure, and waited as John unbuckled his trousers. Once he pushed down his pants far enough John dragged Anna to the edge of the table toward him.

She smiled up at him, looping an arm around his neck. "Is it your turn?"

"Soon." John soothed and pushed forward.

Both closed their eyes at the sensation. John drew back, his fingers digging into the skin of Anna's hips, before pushing forward even more slowly than he brought her to climax a moment before. Her fingers clutched his shirt, pulling it toward her.

"You're teasing me Mr. Bates." She gasped, gyrating her hips to meet his easy thrusts. "It doesn't seem fair to you or me."

"You'll understand." John worked his fingers between them, rubbing Anna between his drives.

She rose to meet him, her voice catching in her throat. With the hitch in her breathing John pressed harder at her bundle of nerves. A moment later, still high on the peak of her first climax, Anna fell over the edge again.

John stopped, waiting for Anna to loosen her hold slightly, before pulling out. Anna wrapped her fingers over his slick, thick member. He groaned and she grinned.

"You're still not finished Mr. Bates."

"Nearly there." John escaped her grip to sit back on the chair. He tugged Anna's hand and she landed with her legs spread over his. "Are you ready?"

Anna lifted herself, taking the half-step forward, and slid down him. She adjusted, rolling her hips forward. John leaned his head on her shoulder as Anna laughed.

"I think you're beyond ready Mr. Bates." Anna rocked back and forth, using her hands at his shoulders to guide her movements. "What do you think?"

"I think I'm ready to finish Anna."

"Good." Anna took one of his hands from her waist, rubbing it between them. "Let's come together shall we?"

"Please." John leveraged on his heels to plunge farther into Anna, seeking to get as deep as he could.

Within a few moments Anna's fingers scrambled for a hold over his shirt and waistcoat. John kissed and sucked at her neck, trying to bring her over the edge as he released control. He stuttered to a finish as Anna's moan filled his ears.

John threw his head back, chest rising a falling while Anna held herself there with her face buried in his shirt. They settled and John leaned forward to kiss Anna. She sighed, smiling at him, and brushed hair from his forehead.

"I do hope I left you reasonably satisfied Mrs. Bates." John helped Anna stand, joining her after pulling up his pants and trousers.

"More than Mr. Bates." Anna kissed his cheek. "We've a little time to sleep before we return to our lives if you like."

"That sounds like an excellent idea Mrs. Bates seeing as we've got to break the Senator and Mr. Carlisle now."

Anna paused, "I think I may have an idea about that."

"What?"

Anna grinned, "You'll see."

* * *

John stood outside the two doors, turning to see Anna as she joined him. "My deepest apologies Detective, an interview at the Institute ran longer than expected."

"It might be better. They've been sweating a bit in there and it'll give us the advantage." John motioned Anna away from the doors. "You're sure this'll work?"

"It's a very effective psychoanalytic tool." Anna lowered her voice, "There's no honor among thieves and while they'll claim at first to trust the other they know what they're capable of."

"You're using their core distrust against them?"

"Yes." Anna pointed to the two rooms. "We convince them both that the other has already betrayed them and they'll give up their partner."

"And how did you want to do this again?"

Anna pointed to the first room, "I antagonize Mr. Carlisle. He'll think I'm nothing but a pawn and therefore what I say will have little value but it'll spark doubt. You do the same the Senator. Then we switch rooms, telling the other that they've been betrayed. The Senator'll take my word a little more seriously and therefore we feed his fear. The same for Mr. Carlisle."

"Then you suggest we go back and forth until they give one another up?"

Anna nodded, "It can be a risk but neither of them has enough faith to believe they're safe in the clutches of the other. They've already been betrayed by Mr. Barrow and we can use that against them."

"You couldn't trust him so why trust the other, as it were?"

"Exactly." Anna winked, "You're quick Detective."

"I've had practice Doctor." John put his hand on the knob for the first door while pulling out his pocket watch. "Ten minutes, no more."

"Ten minutes." Anna entered her room and John his.

Senator Crowborough's sneer was enough to give John an eye roll. "Were you the best they could do?"

"Since I'm the one that helped bring down your operation with Mr. Carlisle I'd say I'm the best." John took his seat, keeping his watch in full view. "Mr. Carlisle thanks you, by the way."

"What?"

"For staying silent." John gestured to the door, "I was with him all morning and he had more than enough to say about you. I told him you hadn't said a word and he promptly accepted our terms to toss you under the carriage as it were."

"He wouldn't. Not when I know enough to ruin him." Senator Crowborough crossed one leg over the other, snorting. "He wouldn't be such a fool."

"I'm sure you thought the same of Thomas Barrow." John bit back his smirk when the Senator shuddered a bit in his chair. "But he gave us more than enough to sink you both."

"Mr. Barrow is a nobody."

"Mr. Carlisle didn't think so when he and Mr. Barrow worked together to bring you down. To save themselves." John paused, leaning over the table. "I hope you didn't think you and Mr. Barrow shared something special."

"Mr. Barrow is nothing more than an embarrassing acquaintance to me."

"I'll say." John checked his watch, "It was not a pleasure, Senator, but I'm sure we'll have more charges to put to you in a few moments. Excuse me."

Gathering his things John left the room. As he closed the door Anna emerged from her room. They walked a pace away and Anna nodded.

"He's got that look in his eye that I've seen on trapped animals. The one that says they need to find a way out."

"I've convinced the Senator that Mr. Carlisle already gave us all the information we need to sink him thoroughly."

"What'd you want me to say to him?"

John sucked the inside of his cheek a moment before nodding. "Convince the Senator that you've snuck in there. Appeal to your shared status and make him believe we're lying about Carlisle."

"We are."

"But make him think that. Tell him that all we really want is Mr. Bricker."

"And you believe he'll turn on Mr. Carlisle with that?"

John shrugged, "It's the truth. At this point the details of their case are in the hands of Chief Crawley and Inspector Carson and they don't need our help to bury the two of them. What we need, to find Green, is to know how he found the Wraith and how we might locate Mr. Bricker. If they can give us either of those details then that's all we need."

"Then I'll tackle the Senator with a suggestion that he worked with Mr. Bricker to commit his murders and you'll take Mr. Carlisle with the accusations about hiring the Wraith to kill us."

"That's the long and the short of it." John headed toward his door and entered.

The bang of the door against the back wall had Carlisle jumping in his chair. John swung it closed, pulling his seat out, and settled there with a smile. He waited, keeping his expression stagnant, and watched Carlisle. The other man tried to remain aloof but after a few minutes he spoke.

"If you've come here to intimidate me, Detective, I'm afraid you'll fail."

"You broke first, Mr. Carlisle." John checked his watch. "Though I only mean in terms of this conversation. The Senator spent the morning telling us all about your operation and your activities. It was a very invigorating conversation that I'm sure you wouldn't enjoy as much as I did."

"You're lying." Carlisle's lip twitched. "The Senator is not that much of a fool."

"Maybe he did what all politicians do." John stood, "He chose the best option for his own interests."

"And what was in his best interests?"

"He told us all about how you hired the Wraith to kill us and get rid of any in your way." John motioned around them. "You're attempting to build a bigger and better New York but you've got to clear the way a bit don't you?"

"I'd never hire the Wraith. That's business for gangsters and thugs."

"Which you were not too long ago if I remember." John checked his watch again before heading for the door. "But I guess this conversation's pointless since you can't save yourself anyway."

John put his hand on the knob but Carlisle called out before he could open the door.

"Detective I think I need to make one thing clear." Carlisle raised a hand. "I may have associations that give me access to the Wraith but I have never had use for those services. As I told you at our meeting."

"I remember." John rubbed a hand over his face. "But did you ever give the information about how to contact the Wraith to anyone else?"

"It was in confidence and I don't betray those." Carlisle raised an eyebrow, "Unless there's a gain to myself."

"What if the gain was a shortened time in the prison system that you're so adamant be used for others?"

"Then I'll tell you that I was once at a party where Doctor Green inquired about the rash of assassinations committed during the census. I discussed it with him, knowing a few of those killed, and disclosed that the Wraith was the only one who could've done it."

"And was our good Doctor interested in the Wraith?"

"Everyone was but I would say he was inordinately curious." Carlisle shifted in his seat. "I suggested a few people who might have an idea about how to employ such an assassin but it was all theory then."

"Now?"

"Now I'm convinced that these recent killings are the work of the Wraith in concert with your killer."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because the Wraith threatened me if I dared interfere with these murders. It's why we stepped in to stop you."

"To protect yourself?"

"To protect my interests, Detective. Your killer and the Wraith are dangerous enemies. Who," Carlisle leaned forward over the table, "Might be informed or protected by Doctor Green. If you want to know more about the Wraith I'd ask him."

"I'll keep that in mind Mr. Carlisle." John pulled the door open as Carlisle called out.

"What of our deal, Detective?"

"I only suggested there was a potential for a shortened prison service, Mr. Carlisle, not that I would seek that for you." John winked at him, "Have a good day Mr. Carlisle."

"Detective!"

John shut the door as Anna emerged from her door. She smiled at him, jerking a thumb back toward the door. "The Senator had something interesting to say."

"Is it that he and Mr. Carlisle were threatened by the Wraith to keep quiet and to stop us from preventing these killings?"

"Yes. He also admitted to knowing Mr. Bricker's background. He threatened Mr. Bricker's silence about what he knows with the release of his heritage to the people Mr. Bricker endeavors to impress."

"Could he give us a more exact location as to where exactly Mr. Bricker is so afraid of returning?"

Anna held up a scrap of paper, "He gave us the address."

"Did he now?" John studied the paper, "And what exactly did he say about Mr. Bricker's location?"

"That he's sure it's also where Doctor Green performed a few detestable experiments for his 'research'." Anna shuddered. "The more I learn about this man, added to what I already know, the more I realize how much I want you to put him in the ground."

"We're joined on that." John grabbed his jacket. "I think we need to take another tour of that shantytown Doctor."

They found a cab and reached the shantytown. Pushing the board back they entered and John checked his revolver before tucking it back into his holster. In the light of day fewer people took an interest in them as fewer people gathered there.

"Everyone's off to find work or a bit of food." John answered before Anna could ask, checking the details written on the paper to weave through the shantytown. "We shouldn't be too disturbed."

"I hope not."

They edged around ramshackle huts, tents, and tin-sided houses to reach an older, more dilapidated section. John drew his revolver as they entered and found the hut they needed. Anna raised a hand to knock on the door as John checked around the area to make sure there was no way to escape.

Before they could John spotted Bricker, looking dirtier and less grand than he had in their last meeting, coming around the corner. Their eyes met and Bricker dropped what he held to run. But Anna stepped in front of him, tripping Bricker to land face first on the muddy ground.

John lifted him to his feet and sat him on an upturned barrel, Bricker's back to the wall. The revolver in view, John took a seat on a crate and Anna folded her arms to the side. Bricker quaked in place but John stayed calm.

"You look rather different Mr. Bricker. These two weeks of sabbatical haven't treated you very well have they?"

"I've been in hiding."

"Oh, I can see that." John gestured around them. "Not the place a dignified curator of museums usually chooses to sequester himself but I could see the appeal."

"You make jokes but this is my life, Detective." Bricker ran a shaking hand over his hair, the same gesture his far more collected self performed the last time they met. "And I won't give it up so easily."

"Would you give up the identity of the man who left those canes outside your museum?" Anna interjected, "Or perhaps you know the identity of the Wraith."

"Why would I know anything about an assassin?"

"Why run when I wanted to question you?"

"Because the Wraith threatened me." Bricker shivered. "I've never seen eyes with such malicious intent to them."

"You've seen the Wraith?" John leaned forward, "When?"

"When Doctor Green left the canes." Bricker took a shuddering breath. "I was there early, as I always am, and I saw him leave them. I went to confront him but then I felt a gun at my back."

"Did you see who held it?"

Bricker nodded. "I knew it had something to do with the murders because I saw the same cane being used when the woman was murdered."

"You saw the murder?"

Bricker closed his eyes, "It was on my way to work. I ran and thought I got away but when Doctor Green brought the canes to my door I knew he was there to finish me so I couldn't tell anyone what I saw."

"Who held the gun at your back?"

Bricker met Anna's gaze. "A woman, about your height, with dark hair and eyes blacker than I ever saw. She-"

A crack had John tackling Anna to the ground as a bullet painted the crumbling brick wall with Bricker's brains. John rolled them to the side, catching sight of the woman running over the top of the building. He pulled Anna to her feet and they set off after the woman.


	21. The Lone and Level Sands

The mad dash through the shantytown while their prey skirted over the rooftops put them about equal. Even in her skirts Anna kept up with John and they followed the progress of their quarry. Dodging crates and barrels, refuse and huts, they ducked under the fence that separated the shantytown from the main street.

John craned his head up, watching as the spring-heeled woman leapt the distance between one building and the next. He judged her trajectory and nudged Anna toward a cab. She stared at him but he was already running after the woman, pointing forward.

"The bridge. She'll need to escape over the river."

John ran across the road, jumping for a fire escape to climb onto the roof. He barely missed the Wraith as she ran over the rooftop, his hand swiping at air. With a grunt he heaved himself after her, ducking and dodging laundry women, and tore through the streets on top of the buildings.

For all the practice the Wraith had hiding on roofs and watching for her shot, John noted that she seemed to slow. The speed she maintained would not be in keeping with the quiet predator waiting for a lightning strike. His speed, far more measured, kept in line with hers despite her smaller size lending to her bob and weave through chimney stacks and hovels.

With the river in sight John spotted a small boat, tied to a post within jumping distance of a small boathouse. The Wraith jumped for it, landing heavily with the large rifle in her grip, but managed to regain her footing. John struck with both feet, causing the delicate roof to wobble and throw the Wraith off her feet.

She fell onto her chest, her rifle spinning away. John went to reach for it but a foot stopped its progress. Anna bent to pick it up, cocking the lever back and clearing the chamber before holding it over her shoulder.

"Need any help Detective?" She smiled as John lifted the Wraith to her feet, holding her arms behind her back.

"I think you've provided enough." John set the Wraith down and brandished his revolver. "Please don't make me use this."

"Why not?" The woman sneered, "Afraid to shoot a woman?"

"I can't say that's the fear I have since I'd be riding the world of an assassin and a sniper." John settled, motioning for Anna to join him. "I am curious how a woman like yourself becomes such an impressive shot. Mrs. Shackleton had to be over four hundred yards from your position."

"Surprised a woman could make that shot?"

"I'd be impressed by anyone who could make that shot. I only managed a shot from six hundred yards on my best day with no wind." John held out a hand and Anna took his revolver while exchanging it for the rifle. John studied it, "Army sniper rifle."

"My father was a sniper in the War of Northern Aggression sir." The Wraith spit. "Took out twenty-three blue jackets before the war ended."

"Did he teach you to shoot?"

"Taught me to hate too." The Wraith spit and John craned back a bit. "We had to move here because of what happened to him."

"Carpetbaggers?" John clicked his tongue against his teeth, "Not the best of circumstances to be raised in."

"We had nothing and built from there to this."

"To murder?" Anna scoffed, "I'm sure your father was proud."

"He trained me to do what he did and yes, he was proud." The Wraith shifted in place. "That is until he died."

"How'd he die?" John waited but the Wraith just stared at the ground. "How about your real name?"

"I'm the Wraith."

"No, the Wraith was your father's code name in the war. It's what the Union called the man who shot soldiers in their beds as they slept." She shook her head but John continued. "Did he tell you he took them on the battlefield? Did he tell you the lie that he was a decorated soldier?"

"My father was the only hope the Confederacy had."

"Your father was a swamp man who murdered men at night or during ceasefires. He was nothing but a skulking degenerate."

"You're a liar!" She surged forward but Anna placed the barrel of the revolver on her chest. The woman sneered at Anna, "Do you feel powerful holding that gun?"

"I don't need to feel powerful to hold a gun." Anna nodded toward John, keeping her eyes on the woman. "I believe he asked you your real name."

"The Wraith had two daughters. Since one of them did not appear in the census of 1890 I'm going to assume that's you. Edna Braithwaite." John smiled a bit at Edna's gasp. "I did my research on the history of the Wraith. The way people speak about you in whispers is to be commended but, as a former sniper, I know people take names for those things that mean a great deal to them."

"Do they?"

"They called me the Angel of Death when I served in the West." John sniffed, "I'll be honest, I did you a disservice since I thought it might've been your older brother but he's a cripple."

"They crippled him."

"He was drunk and fell in the street. The wagon that crushed his legs, the one driven by your first victim, didn't see him." John took a deep breath. "My question is, why did you decide to work with a serial murderer?"

"What's one killer as opposed to another?"

"Your previous employers and victims were gangsters, thugs, and controllers of political machinations. A serial killer doesn't seem on their level."

Edna scoffed, "You don't judge as I do."

"Were you a part of his crusade to clean the streets?" Anna cut in and Edna eyed her. "He was ridding the world of prostitutes and you did kill one of their madams."

"I wasn't joining his crusade. He joined mine." John watched her face, noting the slightly dreamy look in her eye. "He wanted to rid the world of those who might hold us down. Trap us in our lives."

"You're in love with him." Anna gasped and Edna tried to cover her reaction. "You work with him because you love him."

"He loves me."

"No, he uses you." John pointed at Anna, "He's obsessed with her."

"How could he be? He despises Doctor Smith."

"Then what do you make of the women he kills? How they look just like her?" John waited but Edna had no response. "He wants her and he uses you."

"No," Edna shook her head, "That's not true."

"It is true and you've simply blinded yourself to it."

"No!"

"Tell us where he is and we'll see that you don't rot in prison."

"I'll never help you." Edna grabbed the hammer on the revolver in Anna's hand and pulled the trigger.

The bang echoed about them and Anna stepped back with the smoking gun. Edna's head dropped sideways as her body slumped in place. John stood, holding the rifle in his hands, and turned to Anna. She dropped the gun and swallowed quickly, trying to control her emotions.

John put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look at him. "It's alright, Anna."

"I just killed someone John it's definitely not alright." Anna smoothed her hands over her skirt. "I'm going to be sick."

She bent over, retching over the side of the building as John rubbed over her back. He waited, Anna coughing up the last of it, and handed her his handkerchief. Wiping at her mouth Anna pointed to Edna.

"What do we do about her?"

John shrugged, "She was our only lead to where Green could be."

Anna paused, the handkerchief near her mouth a moment before she finished and folded it into a pocket. Walking over to the body she pulled open Edna's jacket, digging in the interior. John waited, wondering what she could be doing, until Anna emerged with a piece of folded paper.

"What's that?"

"Our lead, John." Anna unfolded it, handing it to him. "She's got to have a base of her operations."

"She wouldn't write it down." John stared at the paper, "This is an order for a repair at a gun shop."

"They'd know where she lives." Anna picked up the rifle, John taking back his revolver. "We ask them and they help us track down her home."

"And hope Green is there?"

"He's got nowhere else to go." Anna risked a last look at Edna, "We have to move fast before he realizes she's been gone too long."

They descended to street level, John finding the nearest policeman and explaining the situation to him so someone could retrieve Bricker and Edna's bodies, and hailed a cab. The gun shop straddled the line between respectable and seedy. The front door advertised to the hunting enthusiasts and the sportsmen while the backdoor offered cut rates with discounts for guns stolen out of larger shipments.

John and Anna entered through the back door to find the proprietor. He stumbled out, hefting a box, and stopped when he saw them. John's quick grab of his collar prevented the man's escape and Anna dumped the rifle in his arms.

"Who bought this from you?"

"No one." John twisted the man's collar, pulling the shirt tight over the man's throat so he choked a little. "It's true. I only ever did adjustments to it. Look at it. It's old enough to be my father's."

"Then what adjustments did you make and for whom?" John let some slack in the shirt as the man coughed.

"Some tiny little woman, maybe five foot high with a box under her feet." He thrust the gun back at Anna. "She needed a scope and wanted some rifling in the barrel. I made the adjustments. That was it."

"I doubt that." Anna pulled out the slip and held it in front of his face. "Why'd she have an order form?"

"That wasn't for this gun." The man clicked his teeth in derision at them. "Don't you lot know how to read?"

"Do you know how to breathe?" John tightened his hold and the man fought him off to regain his composure.

"She came by, two weeks ago, and buys another rifle from me and a smaller gun. I only just got the rifle in this morning and she collected it."

"What about the smaller gun?"

"Sold that one to her the same day." The man huffed, "Had this fancy chap with her. Looked far too fine for the likes of her but she followed him in and out like a puppy."

"Was that unusual?"

The man nodded. "Someone like her's got that look in her eye. The one that says they know how to kill you and they're hoping they can. When she was with him, it was buried under the most disgusting adoration I think I'd ever seen."

"Have you ever delivered anything to her? Taken any of her orders to her home?" Anna adjusted the rifle in her hold, John recognizing the uninitiated's movement of the heavy object to find a more comfortable hold.

"When I rifled the barrel of her gun she couldn't collect it so I had to take it to an address."

"Where?" John shook the man's collar when he took too long to respond. "Where did you take it?"

"An address just off of that street where they market the flesh trade for the upper class. Right on the edge of the line between us and them."

"Give it to us."

The man dug through his files and handed over the address. He folded his arms over his chest, "Lot of good it'll do you."

"Why'd you say that?" John tucked the paper into his pocket, taking the rifle from Anna's hands.

"Woman like that'll have you in her sights before you could enter the building."

"Then isn't it a good thing she's dead?" They left the man, with his mouth open, and took another cab up the street.

They stopped just short of the address. John got out of the cab first, Anna following close behind, and studied the building. A pull at his jacket had John turning to Anna. She pointed to the fire escape and they ascended it to the roof.

Once there, weaving over the uneven tiles and through the hanging laundry, they found the entrance to the building with the flat they needed. John checked the rifle was empty and held it more like a club than as a gun before taking the stairs down into the darkness. With dusk setting in the shadows of the cramped hallways lengthened, giving rise to the hairs on the back of John's neck about the potential for every corner to hide their quarry.

But they encountered no one in the corridors and even found the door to the desired flat without difficulty. John knocked on the door, waiting with his ear pressed to the wall at the side, before he turned the knob. With a push he sent the door inward.

A shot echoed out and John held Anna toward the corner. They waited, John drawing his revolver and going to his knees to aim into the space. But instead of a waiting assassin there was only a gun rigged to shoot anyone who came through the door.

John moved slowly inside, disconnecting the gun and examining it before sighing. "Here's the rifle she ordered for this morning."

"Then he's not here." Anna entered after John, beginning her investigation of the room. "She wasn't planning on returning her either."

"Not if they erected a booby-trap to catch anyone who tried to enter the room." John set the empty rifle down, "We need to get word to Inspector Carson. Get someone here to search it for clues or anything relating to Green and his possible whereabouts."

"I don't think we'll need that." Anna held up a piece of paper, half burnt from the fire. "He's gone to my Institute."

"How'd you know that?"

"I found this." Anna handed the paper to John and he read the contents. "He's made an appointment under a pseudonym with Phyllis at the Institute. He references a child he believes needs out help. The interview is for this evening."

Shaking his head John faced Anna. "This is a ploy to draw us out."

"John, there are children there. Even if it's a false threat I owe it to them to protect them from him. I owe it to Phyllis, Mrs. Hughes, Rose, Atticus, and everyone who looks to me to keep them safe there." Anna headed for the door, "I've got to stop him doing anything to put them in harm's way."

"Anna," John caught her arm, "Then we'll go together."

They left the room, John sending a message to Chief Crawley and Inspector Carson at the precinct while their cab hurried to the Institute. They exited in a hurry, John paying the man and running after Anna inside. The door barely closed ahead of him and he yanked it open to follow Anna up to her office.

Her voice, echoing through the halls, called for those who worked there but there was silence all around them. John opened any doors in his reach but saw no one. He pulled his revolver from his holster, holding it at the ready, as they entered Anna's office.

She went to her desk and sighed with relief. Holding up a note she smiled at John. "They've taken the children on a day holiday. I forgot they planned one."

"Where to?" John dropped his revolver.

"Level Sands. It's a little beach just-" Anna gasped and John brought up the revolver in his hand.

Green's arm wrapped over Anna's stomach from behind, a knife pressed to the skin of her neck. A thin line of red appeared as Green's face stayed half hidden behind Anna's golden head. He snickered, the sound sending chills up John's spine.

"Looks like we're all alone here at the end. Because, in case you're confused, this is the end Detective. The end for all of us."


	22. Stretch Far Away

John held up his hands, bending to lay his revolver on the floor as Anna stayed as still as she could in Green's grasp. "It doesn't have to be this way."

"Doesn't it?" Green sneered, "It's not like you'll take me in quietly."

"That's up to you, not us." John pointed a hand at Anna. "She's more than willing to work with you if you claim insanity."

"I'm as clear as I've ever been."

"But you've not always been clear have you?" John gestured around them. "We found information that told us that you've had this affliction fro quite some time but we think you tried to heal yourself. You don't want this, do you?"

Green's head twitched, his eyes scrunching closed a moment, before he met John's partial gaze from behind Anna's gaze. "It's always been there."

"Then we tell the courts that. They'll listen." John risked a step forward. "With someone of your reputation they'll never believe you'd just devolve into this. They'd believe that perhaps your work drove you to it. They'll forgive you."

"You don't know that."

"But we know you paid for those girls." Anna voiced and John bit his lip, hoping Green's ire would not be raised if Anna spoke. "You paid their madams and their families for them. You did right by them, didn't you?"

"I didn't want them to suffer."

"You treated them kindly." Anna continued, her eyes flicking to the side of her desk where John saw her handbag. "You wanted them to rest in peace."

"They weren't what I wanted."

"No," John soothed, edging to the side as Green kept Anna's body between them. "You wanted Doctor Smith here and they were just a means of showing her how much you wanted her."

"Yes." Green's hand trembled on the knife and John saw Anna's wince as it cut into her skin. "She never saw me for what I was. For what I could do."

"And that's her mistake." John's hand closed over Anna's handbag, the feeling of her gun inside fitting to his grip. "She sees it now."

"She sees you!" Green dragged Anna to him, the knife slipping up to cut near Anna's cheek. "She saw you from the first and gave herself to you."

"She didn't realize what she missed until she found me because she was a fool." John ventured, manipulating the hammer on the gun through the cloth as gently as he could so as not to alert Green to his intentions. "But once she had me she knew she made a mistake."

"You're lying!" Green screamed as John slipped the handbag off the desk. "She thinks nothing of me. She doesn't know what I think of her and would never understand."

"But I do." Anna argued, her eyes widening at John. "I could never be matched mentally with him the way I can with you. He's an idiot and bumbles after me in every step of this case. He was the reason I was thrown from the precinct and why it took me so long to see the truth."

"You're just saying whatever you need to say because you think I'll spare you or him." Green snarled near Anna's ear, "But nothing'll spare either of you."

"This isn't who you are Green." John tried to signal Anna to move to the side. "You're better than this."

"No," He shook his head. "This is who I've always been."

"What a shame." John nodded and Anna moved.

She slipped low and surprised Green with an elbow to his gut. He bent double and her elbow knocked into his chin. The knife in his hand slipped and Anna spun from his clutches, catching herself on the desk. John fired the gun in Anna's bag at Green.

The bullet exploded through the material to catch Green in the shoulder. He hit the floor and John was on him in a moment. Green tried to fight back but John's fist to his face stopped all movement from the man. The dazed flop was only resolved with another blow to the face that gave way to a satisfying crunch of his nose.

John kept his weight on Green's chest, reaching a hand back. The hard metal weight of his restraints landed in his hand and John maneuvered Green to shackle his hands in front of him. A firm grip on his shirtfront dragged the man to his feet.

"I think you've got a number of questions you need to answer." John threw Green toward a chair, not caring if he landed in it or not, and turned to Anna. "Are you alright?"

"Just bleeding." Anna dabbed with her handkerchief at the cuts on her neck. John tipped her head sideways, holding her handkerchief there. "They didn't feel deep."

"They're not." John assured her. He glanced over his shoulder at Green, "Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine. Finish your case Detective." Anna nodded at him, "We need to get him where he belongs."

Between John holding Green over his shoulders and Anna collecting the knife they arrived back at the precinct to the surprise of all there. Chief Crawley greeted them as John dropped Green onto the floor with a dropped jaw. Inspector Carson, on his way to investigate the earlier leads they provided, seemed dumbfounded by their discovery. Talbot congratulated them heartily before giving Green unsolicited kicks with every third word. Branson, ever the reporter, held up his pencil and notebook at John.

"I believe, Detective, you owe me this story."

John motioned to Anna, "I think this one belongs to the Doctor as much as to me."

"Both of you, my office now." Chief Crawley cut in. "Branson you can wait your turn. Inspector, on to your previous investigation. We need that room cleaned and sorted to gather evidence against this man. Talbot, you take him to a nice cell where he can wait us out."

John and Anna followed Chief Crawley to his office. Once the door shut he bent to examine the handkerchief Anna had pressed to her neck. He clicked his tongue at her. "Nasty set of gashes you got there."

"They were hard earned." Anna returned the cloth. "But we've got him and that's all that matters."

"It surely does." Chief Crawley put his hands on his hips. "I'm sure there's a good story as to how I started this morning with Senator Crowborough and Mr. Carlisle complaining about deals made them, continued with the body of Mr. Bricker reported in a shantytown, the body of an unknown woman near the river, a message from the two of you about a bobby-trapped room, and then you drop Doctor Green in my precinct."

John turned to Anna, "After you dear."

"Dear?"

"We're married."

Chief Crawley dropped to his chair, "Start from the beginning."

* * *

John opened the paper and made an approving sound. Anna, looking up from her own breakfast, frowned. "What is it?"

"Apparently the motion to unify the boroughs passed. By the first of January in '98 they'll consolidate Queens, the Bronx, Staten Island, Brooklyn, and Manhattan into 'Greater New York'."

"That's good news. Better distribution of city funding if they all count as the city." Anna gathered her dishes, "That's never a bad thing."

"I don't know." John folded the paper, "It could mean something worse."

"Like what?" Anna leaned over the table, putting her hand over his.

John smiled at her, tucking her fingers into his grip. "Like then we'll have more area to cover and more to worry about."

"I disagree."

"Do you Doctor?" John teased, "What do you think it means?"

"It means that people want to come together to represent something better, Detective." Anna rubbed her fingers over his hand. "It may not happen now but it's happening and people are better for it I think."

"No," He kissed her hand, "I know so."

"Do you now?" Anna responded to the pull of John's hand to kiss him. "And what makes you so sure?"

"I have you. How much more sure would I need to be?" John smiled as Anna stood and reached out a hand to stroke over her protruding belly. "And soon we'll have someone else. We can keep our spirits up for him if not for ourselves."

"Him?" Anna swatted at his shoulder, "Are you so sure it's a boy?"

"Why not?"

"What if it's a girl?"

"I'd honestly be satisfied with either." John pulled Anna to sit on his lap. "As long as it's half you and half me then that's all that matters to me."

"Promise?" Anna leaned forward, her lips close to his.

"Promise." John kissed her.

"For how long?"

"Ever and always."

"How far?" Anna played with the hair at John's temples.

"Until the sands stretch far away."

"I like the sound of that." John kissed her again.


	23. Epilogue: Unknown Soldier

**On a tomb where rests three soldiers who served and died with names known only to their parents, the angels, and God the inscription reads:**

 **Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God**

 **Like those soldiers, resting in peace after giving the last full measure of devotion, many forget about those who gave so much to save a city they loved more than themselves. Those with no monument to remember them, no medals about their necks, and no commemorative plaques on the walls of the buildings they forever changed by their mere presence.**

 **Instead, they are remembered as we all hope to be, by the way the world changed about us when we finished our work on the earth.**

 **They remembered until their dying day the events of the spring of 1895. That spring that blew in with rain and snow and bodies. That spring that ended with the capture of a man mad with jealousy and something deeper. That spring that changed their lives forever.**

 **Many forgot the events. Buried quickly in the turn of the century, the elections that quickly seized the community, and the people closer to them that died. History in general forgot the actions of an intrepid detective and a dedicated doctor.**

 **They did not forget.**

 **It is hard to forget when the proof runs about one's ankles or begs for a story at bedtime or refuses to take bath. It is hard to forget when the children saved by time and attention come back as members of society supporting the work meant to being others skills or healing. It is hard to forget when the labors they performed brought safety and ease to the lives of those about them.**

 **Between solving cases, caring for their own children, managing the livelihoods of many other children, and seeking to keep the city safe they had one another. In the darkest of nights they might wake up in a sweat over what they saw but a turn to the embrace of the other, or responding to the cry of their young children, put those worries to rest. They spoke of the events often but only the bright memories.**

 **The darker memories they only recalled in whispers.**

 **Time would tell what they would become. They watched their children grow, saw their sons go to war, wept when one of them did not return, but rejoiced in the lives they still had. They played with their grandchildren, blessed marriages, kissed new babies, and eventually passed peacefully. First him, then her.**

 **Though they too could be the unknown saviors they were known to those who mattered to them for those things that mattered most. The capture of one killer was nothing compared to the lives they blessed, the lives they saved, and the lives they made together. Those are the best soldiers because they surround us everyday.**


End file.
